Stolen Hearts
by StarofDakness
Summary: COMPLETED and Being Reviewed- Bulma and Vegeta are two lost souls in a magical world that has been trapped in war for many years. Will they be able to overcome adversity and fulfill their destiny or will the forces of darkness conquer? An epic
1. Prolouge

Disclaimer- I don't own anything

Disclaimer- I don't own anything!

A/N- RECENTLY REVIEWED AND RE-VAMPED AND BETTER THEN EVER!

Hey all, I decided to go through all the chaps now in retrospect and make them that much better, kind of complete my vision a little better and fix (hopefully) most of the typos. So for those new readers It's an epic-like story that has mythological and fantasy influences. I'll start off by giving some information about Faeries and Elves, the two main species in my story. There are others but I'll give some explanation about them in context. There is important information in here so make sure to read it. Ok then, so here it goes.

Prologue Stolen Hearts:

There had been a split between the Faeries and the Elves for many years now. Most can't remember a time of peace, and some refuse to acknowledge that there ever was, though indeed there was a time when all lived together in serenity but it is hundreds of years past. No one knows any real reason for the rift, but it has grown deeper and deeper over the years of violence. Neither side had the will to make any attempt at peace. Some rumors have it that the Elf king was possessed by darkness and slaughtered the royal family of the Fey, yet from the Elves side it is sure to be the opposite. All that is for sure is that a shadow has covered the land. Pride and dis-trust run strong as both sides struggled for control.

The Faeries have a strong king from an honorable line of rulers, Aeolus, and he has in recent years led his people to some degree of safety and the wars have died down. Faeries are children of nature and are loyal, wise, ethical, and sweet natured. They dislike liars, treatment of animals and environment, cheats, and anything evil. They are masters of illusion and glamourie hidden in plain sight. They learn how to use the powers of nature through runes, plant lore, elements, and the energy of the spirit. Fey children are born with an affiliation to one element that can be told by their coloring and excel at taming at taming that particular element. The Fire spirits are usually red, orange or black in their coloring (of wings and hair); Earth's are brown and green; Air's are pink, gold, and silver; and Water's are blue and violet. Some become excellent fliers and others never really take to it, but they all love the outdoors and especially flowers.

They become sad when the sun is gone for too long and only fight when they have to. They can use swords and other weapons of war, but usually rely on their developed powers. There are five levels of ability. The first is Filadonii, then Kayladonii, Zeladonii the level which most reside, Losadunai, and finally Razudunai. Only a few achieve that latter. There is a power beyond this but it cannot be achieved by just anyone. It is the power of a Valkyrie. Some think it is only a legend, but it is said that once every thousand years one is sent down from the stars to walk among us and amend the evils that plague the world. A Valkyrie would be born as one and die as one, and its powers do not become known, even to itself until they are brought out by some event. It is an awesome power beyond anything we know or could ever hope to reach. They are of the fifth and most powerful element, the Spirit.

There once were two races of Elves, the Light Elves and the Dark Elves, but the peaceful Light Elves were almost all killed at the beginning of the Wars. When they sided with the Faeries the Dark Elves were furious and hated them even more then the Faeries for the Light Elves had betrayed them, something they do not stand for at all. It was their first objective to exact revenge and that is what they accomplished. It is rare to see a Light Elf these days. Still the hate runs strong in the Dark Elves, and it is a most horrible insult to call one a Light Elf or anything of the nature.

The Elves are more sparsely located, living in the shadows of the forest, for they are lacking a leader after their king was killed in battle about 30 years back. Yet they say a rich and powerful Elf by the name of Volsung could unite his people and call them to war again. Elves are a tall, slender and regal built race. They are seen as a noble, and tend to be beautiful or handsome in appearance and are a paled skinned. Elves are strong and agile and are very intelligent. Elves have a longer life span than humans do, as do Faeries. Elves build refined weapons that are seen as master craftsmanship by other races. They use swords, bows and lances more then any power of nature or the spirit to fight, and are superior at that craft. Dark Elves are mainly colors such as blacks, deep purples and dark blues and posses a haughty aloofness.

This story comes in at the time I spoke of with King Aeolus and Volsung. There is a growing tension and many fear that war will again break out after this short time of peace. There is desperation after so long and many on both sides wonder when all this will end, but neither dares to attempt the impossible. The world needs a savior, someone to bring beautiful peace back to the land so they all may grow and flourish without fear or hate, but no such hero is in sight..or is it?


	2. Chapter 1

Stolen Hearts Chapter One:

Stolen Hearts Chapter One:

Bulma's point of view

The wind floated lightly through the afternoon air. Rays of sunlight streamed strongly down through the maze of leaves above causing dappled shadows to be cast. Accompanying the song of the rustling leaves was a crystal brook giggling through the stones with silver fish glinting back and forth in the cool water under the sun. It was not the sort of bright sun making everything curl at the edges, almost in fright, but a pale sun, as if it had grown weak from trying too hard to shine. The flowers of spring were in full bloom, loudly announcing their arrival in a beautiful array of colors, more colors then you could ever name, and their sweet smell filled the air making the animals sing with excitement. The flowers bloomed, and bloomed with such abandon, as if there was no tomorrow.

I looked down at the mass of color. They looked beautiful; they looked simple, as if made to erase a complicated unnecessary idea. It was a mystery to me why I wanted to kill them. Just like that. I wanted to kill them. I wished I had an enormous scythe so I could walk through the field, dragging it beside me, and I would cut those flowers down at the place where they emerged from the ground. Flowers have always caused a scowl to appear on my face, and this was a sign that something was terribly awry. I am a Faerie, and Faeries are supposed to utterly love the beauty and joy of nature, and above all flowers. I think perhaps it is for that very reason that I hate them. I wanted to distance myself from those creatures of such disgusting goodness that I did not understand at all. It was like the flowers were mocking me.

I remembered a time when I had been talking to Chichi, a girl I had known almost her entire life. My friend I suppose you could say. If she is my friend she is certainly my only one. When it rained she would glare and say "How typical," giving the impression she had just experienced a personal betrayal, only to be off happily attending to some task moments later. But that was Chichi, happy with life and carefree. Far be it from me to disrupt that in any way.

On the other end, when winter was drawing to a close Chichi would speak excitedly about the coming of spring. She said the word spring as if it were a close friend; a friend who had dared to go away for a long time and soon would reappear for their passionate reunion.

"I love the flowers pushing their way up out of the ground. And when they are all in bloom and masses together a breeze comes along and makes them co a curtsy to the lawn stretching out before them. When I see that, I feel glad to be alive."

So she was made to feel alive my flowers bending in the breeze. How does a person get to be that way? I wished I could be that way with all my heart, I did. If only I could be free to take in everything as it came and not see bitterness in every gesture, every word spoken, every face. But nothing would change the fact that where she saw beautiful flowers, I saw sorrow and acrimony. The same thing could make us shed tears, but those tears would not taste the same. I felt so alien with my own kind; it was like a sick joke. Like someone had given me the wrong life. I couldn't be one of these people who found everything so unbearable wonderful.

How did I come to this? I am only 19, not a long time to be alive, and yet there was not an ounce of innocence left on my face. I knew how cold and harsh my life was and it ceased to surprise me. My heart held more sorrow then any faeries ever would. Sure I once dreamed like everybody else, but I had lost those dreams in the gray of my world. I used to pray, pray for things to change, but no one was listening.

Maybe I was born cursed, for despair follows me like a faithful puppy, whatever it was I have fallen headfirst from grace and no one is there to pick me up and I lack the strength to do it myself. By myself, always by myself at the end of the world. No matter how hard I tired, I could never find the light. Few, if any, survive such a fate. Most surrender to the vague but murderous pressure of societal conformity. It becomes easier to die and avoid conflicts than to maintain a constant battle with the superior forces of fate.

I had become shriveled, bad tempered, and would snarl at anyone who did anything I found offensive. The actions were so abnormal, that I had no trouble frightening most away, leaving me alone. I used to get so angry and I thought I could solve all my problems by setting fire to this life and stating anew, changing everything about me. But here I was, just a little person no one cared about, unhappy, dissatisfied, discontented, broken, not at all content in my own skin, ready to stir an upheaval.

I presume I had an air of mystery and strangeness that made people nervous. Outside I was cool, collected, indifferent, inside I was living silently in a personal hell without anyone to tell how I felt, to understand such obtuse ideas and feeling without ever experiencing them was impossible. There was no one I knew who was even remotely akin to me. I imagine that it a good thing, since I feel like a demon, doomed to build wrong upon wrong. When I was younger I used to pretend there was a fantasy castle in the clouds I could fly to and escape, a place where crying was not permitted and no one was lost.

There would never be anyone for me to run to. My parents have become disgusted and embarrassed by me, for they are of course the King and Queen of our wonderful land. What an irony for them to have a child like me, I almost feel sorry for my dear parents. Chichi is far too pure and virtuous to comprehend my position, though sometimes I see pity in her eyes. But it is not pity I want, I loathe pity.

I would often become cross and impatient with Chichi for we were so different and neither understood the other. It was light and dark clashing, though you couldn't see it with the eye. Both of us had long flowing hair, silken wings with gossamer shimmer and faces that appeared to be pure and bright. Yet I was a wolf in sheep's clothing. There was cold blue ice in my heart, and Chichi's was as fair as a summer's day. I did not have a sunny disposition and as for actual happiness, I had been experiencing a long drought.

"You are a very angry person aren't you?" Chichi asked me one day, her voice filled with alarm and pity, and I hated it. Perhaps I should have said something reassuring; perhaps I should have denied it. But I did not. I said, "Of course I am, what did you expect?"

She simply shrugged and went on acting her usual way, which was that the world was round and we all agreed on that, when I knew that the world was flat and if I went to the edge I would fall off.

If I had to draw a picture of my life it would be a large black gray patch surrounded by black, blacker, blackest. And it broke my heart. I was dying, dying from living, and without even a faint glimmer of hope. I simply spiraled down into my inevitable doom. In a way I had become addicted to my sadness, it was all I had, the only emotion that proved I was still alive. I knew when I stopped feeling sorrow at my life, that my battle would truly be lost forever.

And all this was improper. I was improper. My life was improper. I was the shameful secret everyone tried to push into the back room so they could go on like everything was fine and normal and good. Just the way it should be. Without me the world would go on and probably be better off. A world that's full of happiness that I have never known. I often wondered if any one of them were put in my place, just for one day, if they could stand the awful emptiness inside. I'd do anything to fill it in...

"Bulma, princess are you alright?" a smooth voice called me back to the bitter reality by the bubbling stream.

I let my stunning crystal blue eyes slide over to the man at my side, a handsome young man patiently waiting for a reply. He looked a little unnerved, as he rightly should. Here he was with this unnatural creation that had just spent the last 5 minutes staring blankly into the water.

I beheld him coolly for a moment, seeing him shift under my unfaltering gaze brought me strange pleasure. I could still make them squirm. He was here to help me forget my pain, my loneliness, even if it was only for a moment. Oh how they looked at me! They reveled in my beauty and longed blindly for it like a moth to a flame. They wanted me, needed me, and that brief feeling was as addicting as any drug to one who had been so cruelly denied of it. They often pledged their undying affection while they were lying atop me, but they never stayed. They quickly shuffled away afterwards, awkward an alarmed when they finally pause long enough to see that there is a darkness lying underneath the beauty, deceptive and pristine. For I am only to be lusted after never loved. Another rule of my life.

You'd think just by chance one of my lovers would actually love me, but it was not to be so. How could I pretend someone would love something like me anyway? It was foolish, but I couldn't stop, even though I was guilty of the same. No matter how handsome how charming, none could ever make my heart melt. It was more a love of the power I held over them, that is until they were done with me. To have someone, anyone really, care about me, no matter how fleeting or false was an astonishing sensation that I could not stay away from. A small corner of my mind harbored the need to have others accept me, to gain the admiration I knew I could never have. Here I was cursed to be denied the one thing I wanted more then any other, to have someone love me and for myself to be able to return that love.

So I laid with this boy and felt nothing, heard his words that were as empty as my heart. It left me indifferent and during I would think of things I needed from the market, what new way to ban the sun from my room, or memorize a subtle but choice insult for people who thought themselves better then me with their happiness. After I would lie in a state of no state, almost as if under ether, thinking nothing, feeling nothing. It was a bad was to be, your spirit is void and will summon something in, usually something bad.

Here I was, participating in actions I knew were wrong and would get me not a step closer to my goal. I am pathetic. And have I fallen so far, and the hour is so late. This is all I have known! I feel my shame inside me like a knife. I have begun to hate this, but like an addict I keep coming back. Don't they know they're making love to one already dead?

I had drifted beyond caring enough to tear myself away, even my body was not my own. My plight was hopeless, yes, but it was all I had to distract myself from the pain. I plunged ahead with eyed open wide into the realm of foolish defiance of my fate. I was sure none of this is good for me and I liked that, I was not happy, but I knew that was too much to ask for.

A/N: ok there is the first chapter! The whole story won't be in Bulma's pov just the first couple and then the next will be Vegeta's. It's a character set-up of sorts. Yup, Bulma's not a good girl in mine, but there will be some more explanation for her actions in the next chapter. Well, thanks for reading and I promise to get these chapters out as quickly as I am capable of (the world's worst typer) 3 AMY


	3. Chapter 2

Stolen Hearts Chapter Two:

Stolen Hearts Chapter Two:  
Bulma's point of view

I watched the boy stumble away muttering excuses, I watched with silent dead eyes. I didn't even feel the sting of rejection this time; maybe I had become truly deadened. So I don't even have this anymore, not that it makes me sad.

'Am I beyond feeling sad now?' I thought with an edge of desperation.

My blue eyes, that would have been considered beautiful even if blue eyes weren't always accompanied with the word beautiful, grew dim as my lids closed over them, shutting the world away. I wasn't always like this. There was a time when the world was a song, and the song was exciting. There was a time when it all went wrong. I had dreamed when hope was high and life worth living. I was not bitter and hateful; I had been as innocent as the best of them. I dreamed that the gods would be forgiving.

There was a time when I would lay on her back staring up at the blue imagining I could be just like the trees and grown as tall and strong as I wanted with my feet on the ground and my arms in the breeze, under a sheltering sky. But I was young and unafraid, and dreams were made and used and wasted. There was no song unsung. But the tigers come at night, and they tear your hope apart, turning your dreams to shame.

Now I know all to well that there are dreams that cannot be, and there are storms we cannot weather. I had a dream my life would be so different from this hell I'm living. Life has killed the dream I dreamed that day when my illusions were cleared and my soul was broken into a thousand tiny slivers like a broken glass.

I was ten, dear gods I was only ten that day I wandered from the royal gardens into the forest chasing the loveliest butterfly I had ever seen. My memory of that day is patchy as if my brain is withholding things I should not know, or that it does not want to remember. I still cannot picture his face clearly.

I recall being frightened at first, but then as if I knew this was my fate I smiled. Smiled in the face of my attacker, my doom, my demise. I was more confused then worried when my dress was ripped off, I don't remember much after that but I'm sure I embraced the darkness fully for I walked away from that day with it adhered to my shattered soul. There was only pain. I was roughly and suddenly thrown into a world of darkness and pain that my young heart could not understand nor bare.

The man seemed as if he was doing business and nothing more, this was something he had to do like buying food. He looked at me disgusted and said words which I do remember clearly.

"What have you done to me you evil child? Why have you bewitched me so? What evil has spawned itself into this world in such a deceptive form? Always remember this world is not for you and all you bring to it is wickedness and sorrow you accursed creature!"

Those words sunk deep, deep into my heart and they were twisted into reality as I lay broken on the forest floor. This was my fault. That man had merely been swayed by my evil. Perhaps he was simply revealing my true nature to me so I would no longer fool myself into believing I could be blessed, saving people from the repercussions that my black soul was sure to inflict in my deception.

Whatever it was something settled inside me, something heavy and hard. It stayed there and I could not think of one think to make it go away. I came to think that heavy and hard was simply the way I was meant to live, and I carried away from that spot a deep black scar straight through my impressionable heart.

I didn't move. I felt as though I had left myself and no longer had any control of my arms and legs. When I was finally able to lift myself and stumble back to the castle it was very late and they were already searching for me. I don't think anyone knew what really happened that day. I told them I had tripped a fallen down a steep hill for I was sure they would hate me and thrown me out if they knew the truth.

They probably wouldn't be able to comprehend the idea of it anyhow. At the beginning I foolishly hoped beyond hope that somehow I could get back to they way things were, that I could just forget, but that hope was quickly evaporated my the overwhelming heat of reality.

Why run from the truth? It is inevitable, inescapable, fate. Why not embrace my dark life and let the days pass with a monotonous pain. That day was a revelation, the beginning of expressing my hatred, hostility, and anger towards the world and myself, sometimes with words, mostly with deeds. I was wicked and wild and everything in between. Everything that was wrong. Somehow I imagined that with these acts I could leave behind me, as if it were an old garment never to be worn again, my sad thoughts, my sad feelings, my displeasure with life in general as it presented itself to me.

I fit so well into my new life that if I should cross paths with that man again I should thank him. Thank him for clearing my delusions and showing me my true nature. I do not entertain the pathetic fantasy that someday I might fit in and coexist peacefully with my kindred. My people, whose smallest most natural gesture would call up in me such a rage that I longed to see them dead at my feet.

There was no going back, I knew this. My misfortune and iniquity was too vast to fight. It even poisoned those around me, those closest to me. That was the worst punishment. Yes, I know why my mother hates me. Why she can't bare to look at me for too long, for all she sees is a curse upon her life and I don't blame her. She fears to stay in the same room with me lest my evil infects her too.

Though it can't be proven I know that my siblings' deaths were my fault. My father has tried to convince my mother I had no part, saying they were only unhappy accidents and it was folly to think I had part it them. But he has given up. Perhaps he believes it too.

It was suspicious was it not? That they should all die and I be left alive. My wretched soul lingers on while theirs, so full of light and hope were crushed. Yet another amusing little cruelty of my life. It can't go long without tragedy.

I suppose some explanation of the events is necessary for one to understand of what I speak. The first was Camilla, my elder sister of three years. I was eleven at the time and was to assist her in picking the finest flowers for a festival in her honor. She was to become a Zeladonii, a third level faerie, quite an achievement for a girl her age, but the again Camilla was beyond perfection in all she partook.

Whenever my mother would speak of her I saw her eyes fill up with tears of pride, and I felt a sword go through my heart. For there was never any accompanying scene for me. I only had tears of disappointment. How I longed to make my mother love me as she loved Camilla, but no matter what I did it seemed to achieve only the opposite.

Camilla wandered away from me or I from her more likely as I slipped into one of my trances and was not shaken from it until I heard her distant screams of agony. She had been torn limb from limb by an ill-tempered mountain wolf. It was a messy death to say the least. Nothing becoming to a maiden of her stature I'm assured. And as I came upon the clearing and saw all the beautiful flowers dyed red I did not stop the morbid smile from sneaking onto my face. My dear beautiful perfect sister reduced to this all because of one grumpy she wolf. How perfect.

Oh how they would mourn. They would cling to this tragedy, fascinated by it. Wallowing in the attention and feeling of a higher importance it brought. Oh woe their poor souls, dear little Camilla was taken from them at such a young age, how horrible! We should lord over it for days and days.

Aren't you all so sorry for us? Poor pitiful us. Some who didn't even know Camilla jumped in just so they could be a part of the action. I laughed at them. Laughed for they knew nothing of true sorrow. Sorrow is not something you want to get in on.

They mistook my scrutiny and lack of shock at calamity for apathy at Camilla's untimely departure, and I was berated greatly for it. Angry eyes were turned to me and the blame was placed. 'You should have been with her, the wolf wouldn't have attacked then, where were you? Off wandering about with your head in the clouds not doubt.' And though none ever said it out loud, I saw it in their eyes. 'Why couldn't it of been her instead? Camilla had such promise, Bulma is just a waste. What a shame, what a shame.'

Psyche was next. She was a year younger then me and was a companion as Chichi was. She drowned on a summer day of my thirteenth year. We were swimming in a river just outside the palace when a strong current took her under. I did not know what was happening, or gods I would have died trying to save her, I would have. But I couldn't, I failed again, I was too late for Psyche and she is probably cursing my name in heaven.

Yet I refused to shed tears, my eyes were dry and so they would remain. My self control and acceptance of my fate were all I had, if I broke down over this I would be still trying to piece myself back together. I shut it out. I shut down.

Last was my baby brother Nisus, as if the horror of my life couldn't haunt me more. It's like all the sorrow was taken from everyone else and piled on me. My loved ones were to die, a fate I longed for but feared, and they received so ill-deserved. Nisus, poor little Nisus, heir to the kingdom being my parent's only male child, their only hope and glory, but it was so short lived. Six years old and I was fourteen. I was to watch him while my parent attended to the royal council.

My mother was wary but decided nothing could happen in an hour if we were to stay inside the castle. But oh how little Nisus longed to go out in the fresh air and play, how could I deny his sparkling blue eyes? I was powerless against them. He looked at me with unhindered admiration, and I only wished for his happiness. It was only a second I swear he got away for me for only a brief moment, but that was all fate needed. An arrow pierced his heart, loosed from an Elvin bow. A strategic move for the devils. Cut the bloodline, leave your enemies leaderless. War was lurking. Ultimate heartbreak for me.

The Elves those _disgusting_ creatures, they stole him from me, those lurking demons, I curse them for eternity. My brother deserves as much. May the world freeze over before I look on one of them with anything but enmity.

That death was the most painful for me, and I with drew almost entirely, barely hearing the condemning words screamed at me, for it was painful for my parents as well. All they had left was me now, and it was overly apparent that I would be no leader.

I worried who would end up dead if I let them too close. No life can survive around me, so it is obvious no life can survive within. I am barren. As well should be I suppose, no one like me should ever be allowed to foolishly bring a life into this world of tears.

To have never been born I count as a death superior to a life of bitterness. Yet knowing that I will never have a child, still brings a lump to my throat. I am completely and utterly alone.

And this is the end of my Family line. For even if my parents do find the man they wish to marry me and become King to our people, I will not be able to bare him a child.  
Our land will fall to chaos and the Elves will conquer. All because of me. I am ruin. They will curse my name in history. Maybe my parents should find a new more suitable daughter as well to carry on and I can just disappear into the shadows.

It seems unreal doesn't it? That one life could hold so much sorrow? Sometimes I have to remind myself that this is my life and this is in fact happening to me, it is a nightmare from which I shall never awake. It becomes utterly maddening at times, it's a wonder I have kept my wits about me this long, but I suppose a princess must work harder at achieving insanity then normal people. I salute you black winged night, nurse of the golden stars! May your terror never run dry. Close the door, all the fight is gone from this wounded heart. I am yours, a child of the darkness that fills my soul...

I find myself back in my room, so lonely and dark for I have banished the garish sun. I am writing on a piece of parchment. They are words I don't remember writing but there they are staring up at me disdainfully.

"I wish I could love someone so much that I would die from it."

As I stared at that sentence a great wave of grief and shame washed over me and the dam broke. I wept and wept so much that the tears fell on the page and caused the words to become one great blur.

As soon as I am sure I have fully accepted my doom...the longing comes back...the faint glimmer a flame that stubbornly refuses to die, perhaps simply out of spite. I am in fact my father's child. I am always reaching but I fall, and the stars are black and cold, the night is closing in and I stare into the void, to the whirlpool of my sin. I long to escape from the world, a world that does not want me. There is nowhere I can turn There is no way to go on... Another story must begin

A/N: Alright, we got through the depressing Bulma story, now we get to do Vegeta! I know it's a little extreme, but sometimes it's necessary. Thanks for reading


	4. Chapter 3

Stolen Hearts Chapter Three

Stolen Hearts Chapter Three  
Vegeta's point of view

A face as fair as limestone, perfectly immobile-as though chiseled out of stone- but dark eyes roved aimlessly over the wild landscape. Always off to the side of everyone, shoulders hitched up and bent forward as if carrying a great weight. A slight wind washed over my face as I squinted in the glare of the intense afternoon sun. There was something sweet on the air, like strawberries and sand. As much as I hated it, my intrigue was as intense. Like a child trying to catch a rainbow, wanting so much to possess that sort of beauty, yet knowing that it is never possible. It was a jealous hate. A sharp call snapped me out of my reverie.

"Vegeta ya useless lackey! Wat the 'ell is wrong with ya? Didn't ya 'ear me ya li'le shit? Ya think ya betta then us now do ya? I'll show ya...I told you not ta bring 'im along Adrastus, e'll just fuck t'ings up like ta failure 'e is, yes 'e will."

"Keep you fat tongue in your mouth Chiron, before I lose my patience with your inanity and cut it off and feed it to the buzzards! You should know that every time you open your mouth you prove you're an idiot," I hissed at the unimaginably grotesque oaf in front of me.

"Now boys, can't we all just get along?" said the smooth voice of my sister Amata. I glanced quickly in her direction and scowled at the amused expressions on both my elder siblings faces. How I hated them. How I longed to hate them. I have never been a part of my family; I have been outside in the rain my whole life, waiting for the skies to clear, knowing they never will. My 'family' would only lower themselves to my presence if the was some need of my skill, and even then they could not keep the disgust and scorn out of their eyes. I am simply used as if I'm a hunting dog of sorts that you always keep hidden in the shed until needed for killing. For that is what I do best.

I never knew why I was such an outcast, and that may be the most maddening thing of all. I have never done anything to deserve their hate but yet they give it to me endlessly. By the gods I've done everything I could possibly do to please them, to be worthy to be a part of them, I've even sacrificed my soul, but it's never good enough. My accomplishments are all unnoticed. I am stronger, faster, smarter, more ruthless then the best of them, but it is all trivial compared to…to...my essence that makes them loathe me so. I must have been born with a sign that said, "Detest me and all that I am," written on my face. I am the youngest son of the most powerful Elf in wild country, and yet they treat me like some poor beggar.

I've done so much to try and find the truth to my hated existence, but all I know is that inside I'm bleeding. Every time I cry out, no one ever rescues me. I wish I could hide from everyone, run away from everything, I want out. There has to be someplace better to be. But I can't run. They are all I have, even if they do hate me. I am helplessly aware that I will spend the rest of my days hopelessly striving for their approval their acceptance, anything. To be a part of something, anything, and not so utterly alone is all I crave. All I am denied. I know that if I left I would lose what little sanity I have left. My life is a misery.

"Brother," he said the word with such contempt, it was more like a joke then a title, a private joke within my family that they found endlessly amusing, "Cool your nerves, you know Chiron is as strong as he is stupid, we need him if we are going to complete this job successfully and make father happy, don't you want that?" Adrastus said knowing full and well that the one thing I craved was to make my father happy, proud, and he knew that I will never achieve anything of the sort.

I growled seething with anger; the condescending tone is old to me even after twenty hard years.

"'EY!" Chiron protested gruffly, his monstrous face assuming an expression of dogged stupidity even more vacant then it usually was. It was a great insult to be put down in front of me, the lowest of the low.

"Hush Chiron, we have no time for self-importance. You know we wouldn't have brought him unless it was absolutely necessary. You just keeps getting weirder and weirder though, don't you Vegeta," Amata said with what seemed like pride at that accomplishment. They knew my exile from the family had done this and were very pleased with the outcome. They had created a monster. Amata brushed her short brown hair out of her eyes and flicked my chin upwards as if I were a pouting child.

"Come on, cheer up. You act surprised," she laughed, and that laugh burned my soul, though I would not let it be noticed. I had perfected my cold glare over the years, and if looks could kill she would be dead at me feet.

I am known for my reckless abandon that my life has introduced to me, and if anyone ever dared to cross me, I would have seen to that person's demise immediately. I wore sweat and blood proudly and did not know fear. People shuddered to hear my name, it was empowering and addicting. If I could not have their appreciation, at least I would have their fear. This was all of course excluding my dear family. As alienated as I was from their world I still clung desperately to it like a live preserver in a violent storm. I'll just keep trying blindly, closing my eyes to the truth so I can search forlornly for acceptance from the eyes of those who are supposed to be close, but remain so far.

"Whatever," I said, my despondent calm coming over me, "Let's just get this over with."

And so the four of us descended, and the doom of a small but profitable town at the outskirts of the forest came with us. It was well guarded but not enough to stop the four most elite soldiers of the growing Elf Empire. A mix of creatures lived there, but mostly the Fey people, our claimed nemesis, though I don't know why such peaceful airy creatures would be an enemy. But it is not questioned, just accepted.

We completed our mission quickly and without hindrance. In less then a half an hour we had cut our way to their treasury and taken all the contents. We killed all who tried to stop us, and the Fey leader as a tactical point. The carnage has ceased to turn my stomach. I knew too much about cruelty to be surprised by it, and I didn't like any of it but it could not be helped, I am naturally inclined to be bloodthirsty.

I had been brought up- perhaps through indifference, perhaps through cruelty- with an imperfect sense of right and wrong, though that was little excuse. I simply watch the innocent people run in horror and wonder how it has gotten to be this way. When did I become so heartlessly evil? But I was never given a chance. My own heart was taken away from me at such a young age, I do not have the strength nor will to reclaim it on my own, nor do I feel moved to be bothered for anything concerning the hearts of others.

I have become obsessed with morbidity, pain, and, most of all, death. I'm an intense person, and often allow myself to be consumed with giving voice to my suffering; I think of misery as poetic and regard my own unhappiness as the price of being intelligent and self-aware. Tempestuous and desolate is simply how I was meant to live, as tiring as that gets sometimes, there is no changing reality. It would be foolish to assume otherwise and not simply except ones fate.

And so it goes on, life has dealt me some terrible tribulations and I wait alone in the shadows. At the end of the day I'm just another day colder, one day closer to dying. I do as I always do. Fight, win, be strong, heartless, selflessly support the empire that does not support me. It seems like I'm living but I know I am not. I bleed but I do not feel. I try to pretend I don't need anyone, that I can survive just fine all alone, but the horrible emptiness won't go away. Everybody needs somebody, as trite and pathetic as that sounds, and I am doomed to have no one. I have to distance myself so that I may stay sane inside insanity. Being around people who are happy and loved is like putting a child in a candy store and telling him that he can never have any no matter how much he wishes it, and then eating it all in front of him with a mocking smile.

The others leave silently and quickly with the plunder, without any note of me, there is no need to pretend anymore now that the job is done, they can freely express their odium towards me. It fails to astonish me.

As I watched the blood run over my hands I wondered how many? How many times have you taken the life of another?

'Too many..to many..the blood will never be washed off your hands.'

I can't remember half..I shut it out...shut it out...

'That doesn't mean it didn't happen, that you didn't kill him.'

There is a thirst for blood in me - it is in my very flesh. Before an old wound can be healed there is fresh blood flowing.

The wind is howling, the trees are swaying, the clouds are floating gently across the sky. I close my eyes and there is no more. No wind...no trees..no clouds..just a silent barrenness. Only the fear of reality...only the terror in my heart. Nothing remains but the cry of my hate, the cries in the dark that nobody hears. Turn your heart black! This is all I have lived for! This is all I have known!

I couldn't have been older then six winters old. Already hard and cold, a frown already adorned upon my young features.

'There he is just an old man. What threat is he?'

I look to the harsh eyes that stare menacingly down. I've never seen those eyes smile at me, even for a moment, no matter how I tried, no matter how proficient and obedient I was. That was a joy not meant for me, and at the time my young heart could not bare nor understand this.

"Shoot."

Such a simple command I should have been able to follow it readily, but this was no rabbit or bird. Shoot, shoot, all you have to do is shoot. It is an easy thing. I can't do it deftly in a matter of seconds with just a movement of my arm on the bow. What is the difference between this and the wooden targets you have practiced on for so long? ….. except this target breathes.

I look at the stern eyes again, now filled with disappointment. I have to make him happy, to make him proud. Maybe this will be enough; maybe he will stay with me. I have to if there is even the slightest chance. It is just an old man I do not know who is at the edge of life anyway. Maybe...

The arrow shoots straight and true, and the man falls without a sound. An amused laugh comes from above, one of victory not of satisfaction towards me. What did I do wrong? My heart trembles with disillusionment.

"Now bring me his head and we shall post it outside your window as an honor to your first kill," he said handing me a large knife gleaming at the edges as if thirsty. I could see myself in its reflection, eyes wide with horror, knowing this was no joke.

"Wh.what?" I inquired feigning ignorance hoping somehow he would change his mind.

"Do not mock me boy, you heard what I said," he replied in anger.

No, don't be angry at me again father..I'll do anything..I knew he hated weakness. I would be a failure. I had to, and I did. I did it and it is etched on the back of my eyes even to this day. I had taken a hard turn that night and the darkness embraced me as my only friend. Now that I look back, I think my father knew well what he was doing that night. He was forming his toy, molding it into a ruthless, heartless killer. I was some sick experiment. His perfect warrior that he would need not waste any time on, nor any emotion. He was so successful I almost feel the urge to commend him, cheers to your remarkable success father.

Even the moon seems to be laughing at me, its pale face laughing down, for even though it is in the cold black sky, it still has thousands of bright stars at its side. Something I was destined to never know, even though it seemed every other creature was granted that simple joy, that right of existence.

Never to know the feeling of a hand on your face in love? The hate left scars tracing along my skin.

"You deserve every one of those scars and more, you've even put some there yourself because you know it."

I do..I do..that boy..he was so young, so full of life, and I took all that away with a flick of my wrist. It is a power no one should have, do commit such atrocities is unforgivable and the memory haunts me. I was sixteen... they were intent on having me execute it.. it seemed important for some reason. Those forked tongued devil lied to me, saying I would have their honor and acceptance if I were only to complete this. It was just another game to them. And although I caved to their desires once again, as I was already so immersed in darkness, His face haunts me still...in the night... all I can see is his face, and I have no one to blame but myself.

They had laughed, and it called up a rage in me like no other. How?! How could they laugh at this?! How could I have allowed myself to fall to doing this.. A crack opened in my callous core that day. I would never do it again I promised myself, not to make up for my sins, but I simply could not. I could not allow myself to be used like this. That day was one of my darkest, a full realization of my inevitable doom. As much as I pine for my family's credence I do pretend to believe that I feel no rancor towards them. I would never please them so I would not continue to subject myself so horribly to their unmerciful hearts.

Promises are hard to keep in this world.

I am ruined beyond repair. There is nothing for me but this, the power of my own self. I may yet struggle for my distant hearts desire, but I am far more distant. I hardly see any of them at all anymore. I think they may have begun to fear the evil entity I have become, with eyes colder then the depths of eternity. All things quail under their intensity, maybe they fear a back fire in their plan. That their own monster will turn against his master. If only I could…

A sigh escapes my broken lips. My mother, if it is possible, is even more distant then the rest of my family. She refused to touch me as a baby, so some misshapen nurse kept me just well enough to stay alive. I've wondered how my own mother, the giver of my life, could hate her own child so much as soon as it was born. Maybe not so much hate, as I am simply invisible to her. I think that is worse sometimes. She has not uttered more then five syllables to me in the entirety of my existence. Questions burn inside me and I will never have an answer, perhaps there is no answer. Perhaps only sometimes poison comes along that is so potent you can tell right off. I cannot help loving her. We give the best of our hearts uncritically, to those who hardly think about us in return.

Her name is Anaxarate, and she is beautiful in her wickedness. I have to admit she befits my monstrous father quite perfectly. A perfect dark queen who lusts for power as much as the best of them. Or shall I say worst. She can barely contain her disgust in my presence and often makes whispered comments to others that bring hateful laughs, her eyes burring with a crazed violence. I think if she had the chance, she would slit my throat in a second. Knowing this of your own mother is an unbelievable fate.

All of this was when I was younger. I do not subject myself to their presence any longer unless it is absolutely necessary or demanded. Sometimes a chance meeting occurs when I deliver the spoils I have won. I bring more to my father's throne then any other, not that it matters. I do it more out of habit now. It keeps me busy; for it is in the quite that my grief truly overwhelms me.

I do not understand the need to posses such riches. Some goes to building weapons and things of that sort, but most of the lot simply sits there. Yes, it is truly magnificent to look at but is it worth the blood that was spent to acquire it? I suppose it is the idea of it, the power it implies, and the glory it offers those who will be entranced by it's spell. It has never done so to me, I can think of many things far more precious and rare. A man knows nothing if he knows not that wealth oft begets a fool.

I am one for destruction; it brings me both pleasure and pain. To see people cower before me brings a great swelling of power and pride, I almost feel as though I am living. It means they respect me. Power demands respect. It is a drug to me, as sickening as it is at the same instant. If one deserves death, it is me. Often I wish they would rise up and strike me down and end it all, but that wish brings a recklessness that is near impossible to conquer. It is amazing the lengths you can go to when you care not for your own life. Some say that you shouldn't tempt fate, but I say fate should not tempt me.

Life's partner in crime, death, has always been a fast worker, but I go out of my way to find death before death finds me. I do rash, dangerous things just to see how my heart will react. But even death seems to be amused at my misery and refuses to grant me relief. I have done things that would have killed a number of others, and yet I remain standing. Life is my punishment, death is me reward.

I have no purpose..but still something stirs within me, defiantly raising its head, objects to losing any battle, even a battle with an unseen foe. I am always reaching but I fall, and the stars are black and cold, the night is closing in and I stare into the void, to the whirlpool of my sin. I long to escape from the world, a world that does not want me. There is nowhere I can turn There is no way to go on... Another story must begin.

Two pairs of eyes stared up into the endless sky. As different as day and night in appearance, but they hold the same sorrow. Happiness was like a shoe that didn't fit but they were still trying to cram their foot into a hopelessly small space. They were hammers walking around in a glass house, waiting for something to break.

A/N: Hmmm. some parallels? Now for the plot to start rolling. Please read and tell me what you think, Thanks!


	5. Chapter 4

Stolen hearts Chapter Four

Stolen hearts Chapter Four

Bulma's point of view

'The sun is so bright, why must it always be so? Are you trying to punish me as well Helianara?' I though glumly as I gazed upwards, gasping with shock as I realized that the sun was well past its zenith. I was late yet again.

If there is one thing my parents have been adamant about, it is my schooling, they must have some hope for me. It is more forced though for I am the only hope, it gives them little options. They must make due with what they have, for I must continue the family rule or risk that chance of ruin. They have to mold me into something acceptable, at least enough to stand by the side of my husband, nodding and smiling but saying nothing. It would simply be my blood. I am not 'stable' enough to rule myself so it is my parents' obsession to find the right man to rule, whether he is a good husband is of little matter.

It is my duty; it is the least I can do.

Yet my schooling is of little consequence, my title is enough to attract suitors. I could be screaming and pulling my hair out, and all he would so is smile until he had my hand. Then the pretenses will be drooped and I can be pushed away into some dark corner only to be used as a figure head at public occasions. Like a dress jewel you only wear to the most extravagant ball. My courtship is more to my parents then I, yet it bothers me little. I have no belief in the foolish thing called love, and I know it is my obligation to my people. I have no regrets about the arranged marriage my parents have been pushing for of late.

It is for this reason that I reach Zeladonii status, it is only proper for the Queen of the Fey. They want so badly for me to make them proud and I would have it so, but life isn't always a perfect little rose garden, where cookies are baking in the oven, and the kids are playing ball in the back yard. In my life, the roses are trampled, the cookies are burnt, and the ball has been stolen.

I had come to feel that my mother's actions towards me were designed solely to make me an echo of herself. I once though my mother a Goddess, I would see her standing still in an almost celestial light, she looked so blessed, no blemish or mark of any kind upon her cheek or anywhere else. She was my beautiful golden mother, always pouring love over living things. Now I saw her as a hollow old woman, though her face had not changed so much in outward appearance, and I would rather be dead then be just an echo of her.

I remember once when she was talking to me, a rare moment of peace between us; as if I were a normal happy daughter and she truly loved me with that golden love of old. She had begun to tell me a sweet story of how my father and she met, and a dark rage filled me. Maybe it was jealousy, for I knew I would never have such an experience and I felt she was mocking me for it.

So I said stridently with disdain, "What a religious experience that must have been." I walked away quickly for my thirteen year old year could not bear to see her face when I had caused her pain and disappointment, but I could not stop myself. The anguish I saw before I turned away almost broke my heart, but I would not bend. It was an empty triumph, but I clung to it still.

That was the last time we ever pretended to be a loving normal family. There were no more pretenses. I tell myself it is better, that I need no more false hopes, anything else that can cause me pain. Maybe it is selfish, but all I have is myself.

My relationship with my father has been strictly business for the most part. I am an asset to carry on the royal line and that is all. There has been a time where we would smile at each other and he would throw me high in the air so I could feel the breeze in my wings and learn to take to the sky. Those happy memories are as faded as an ancient picture. The deaths of his children hit him hard. I do think he loved us dearly, more then anything in the world, and it killed him inside. I think he has given up, I recognize the look in his eyes. So much sorrow, maybe he thinks he is cursed as I do. He has never been cruel to me, neither has my mother, only distant. And I am not one to leap the gorge.

As I enter the thatch building that serves as our room of learning Chichi's eyes dart towards me in commiseration as if she were at my funeral. I try to smile back but it only comes out as a twisted grimace and I slide into my chair as quickly as possible, but not quick enough to go unnoticed. Another thing I have yet to master.

"Bulma!" The short dwarfish looking man calls sharply, his wings twitting in annoyance. I wince.

"How nice of you to grace us with your oh so merciful presence. This is the third time this week princess, I am going to have to have counsel with your parents. They will not be happy, very disappointing indeed." He mumbled almost amused with my misfortune as he returned to the lesson about herbs. I groan in defeat. I knot my brow and try to pay attention since I am here anyway.

I tune in and out, absently scratching notes now and then. He is talking excitedly about Valkyires now, and how it is rumored to be the coming of one around our time period.

'What rubbish' I mumble to myself. If anyone actually believes those old tales then they are more foolish then I am unhappy. Now he was on to runes, the magical inscriptions that were immensely powerful for those who could inscribe on them anything and call it to their will. Wood, metal, stone, whatever you wished, or could master.

I never had much success with them, but once I did make a fish fly and slap into the face of our teacher. No, I don't think he liked that one bit and overlooked the fact that I actually achieved something. Oh well, it was worth the look on his face.

What? He wants us to copy down axioms? I hate that, they are a mockery I say, nothing can be learned...

-A silly man lies awake all night Thinking of many things, When morning comes he is worn with care And his trouble is just as it was.

-The mind knows only what lies near the heart.

-Nothing can be expected but the unexpected

-Only a fool tests the depth of water with both feet

-Ignorance is not bliss, it is oblivion

That is all I have the stomach for as I gaze out the window. No one likes to be preached to. I care not for words, for that is all they are and of not aid to me.

Soon the session is over and I am being led down a long stone hall adorned with entwining designs along the wall. On the massive oak doors to the counsel chamber where my mother and father reside at the moment was a beautiful carving of the Tree of Life, connected to all. Its great curling branches seemed to reach out wishing to embrace me, but I pass by failing to take its warmth.

The squatty teacher looks back at my over his glasses and says curtly, "You are digging your own grave, do you know that?"

What is that? Was it a threat? A promise? Or maybe just a strange and unusual fact.

I have no more time to ponder such things as we confront Harmonia. When I see her in her Queenly attire attending to court powerful and graceful, I do not think of her as my mother, but as the great Queen Harmonia.

The small man quickly begins to explain my failures and shortcomings, and I can tell from the glint in his beady eyes that he is enjoying this. My mother tuned to me when he finished, and her anger made my teachers eyes swell with smugness.

"Bulma," she always grimaced when she pronounced my name and spoke through clenched teeth as if simply saying it brought a chill, "I am very let down by your behavior. I..I just don't know what to do," she was at a loss of words at the disappointment I was, "I have given you everything you…"

I cut her off unable to listen to this speech again.

"I ask for nothing!" I cried defiantly.

"And you shall receive it, in abundance!" she spat as her eyes narrowed dangerously, "I am forced to send you to your Grandmother's, maybe she can succeed where I have failed."

I paled visibly. My Grandmother is a horribly strict tyrant with an iron fist. This must be the end of my life.

"You can't do this!" I cry desperately.

"I can and I will, I am your Mother," she said coldly that would make one believe just the opposite, "you WILL leave at dawn tomorrow and I expect some improvement before you are to return."

She didn't wait for my reply as she turned abruptly and strode away. I looked pleadingly at my father but he had already turned to follow. I feel a pain in my heart. Yes, you are my mother, that's why you can just fling me away when things go wrong. Push me away like an unwanted object. I may deserve this, I may have broken her heart, But she broke mine as well. She couldn't bare me anymore..

The tears are mine to cry, and I cry away my silent pain to an uncaring world.

A/N-Well next chapter will be third person, so stay tuned. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 5

Stolen Hearts Chapter Five

Stolen Hearts Chapter Five

Third Person Omniscient

The incessant rocking and jerking of the carriage was slowly pushing Bulma over the edge of what little sanity she could claim her own with its maddening rhythm. They had been traveling in this confounded contraption for almost two hours now and she simply couldn't take it anymore. Why did the loathsome woman she called Grandmother have to live in the middle of nowhere?

'Most likely to pain me,' she though bitterly, her mood getting exponentially worse with each passing moment. She was certain if she was forced to endure this torture for any longer she would have no choice but to kill something. And since the two wretched serving women seemed to remain unaffected they served as prime candidates.

"Stop this infernal wagon of hell immediately or you shall wish to have never been born!" Bulma was screeching without even realizing it, the pitch of her voice starling herself as well.

The driver was so shocked at the sudden uproar and the shrieking madness of the Princess' voice that he complied with her demand so suddenly that the passengers were thrown ungracefully forward with a thud of discomfort.

"You moronic lackeys! Why must I be cursed to always endure your defective presence?!" Bulma yelled in exasperation, impatiently pushing the grotesque women off of her and clambering out of the overheated interior.

Long blue hair that almost appeared to be a cape followed the Princess as she paced and fanned herself by flicking her stately wings, trying to calm her boiling nerves. She rubbed her temples and asked in a forced calm through gritted teeth, "How much LONGER until we reach our destination?"

It was no mystery that the Princess was extremely vexed and the driver was no idiot, yet he had no choice but to stammer out the truth, whatever the unfortunate repercussions may be.

"About five more hours my lady."

Bulma's eyes widened a fraction then narrowed as a dangerous calm came over her.

"No matter. We shall simply have to find a better route for that one is certainly not satisfactory. Am I correct?"

The Princess' eyes glinted with some unknown plan and the poor driver was absolutely flummoxed as he struggled so decide what to say in response.

"Good lady, I do not know of any other path and the horses are already tired in this heat, we couldn't possibly push them any faster."

"Oh save your beasts, I don't intend to have them pushed any harder, I have heard of a path through Wilderland that would cut our time by more then half, we shall take that path."

"No, no my lady!" he said eyes wide with fear, "We can't possibly go that way, it is much too dangerous!"

"It is my understanding that the road through Wilderland is perfectly save for a party of our size, we do have the royal guards do we not? Is that not what they are here for? If that path will take three hours off our journey then I find that more then enough reason to take it, for if you think I will succumb to being packed into that accursed carriage like a dog for five more hours then you are horribly mistaken. I am still a Princess and we have to brave a few fanciful tales so I can keep my comfort and my sanity, then that is exactly what we shall do you coward!" her voice raised to an awful shriek at then end that left no room for arguments.

"Now lets away," she commanded as she turned swiftly and entered the carriage leaving a very unhappy driver to comply with her demands as her turned off the wide main path to the rough one of Wilderland grumbling something about 'royalty' and 'think they know everything.' The light slowly faded as they ventured deeper. At every noise the poor man would jump praying some horrid creature would not jump out and make a lunch out of him.

Wilderland was a place of steep hills and dark forests, where unknown things lurked in the deep shadows. The mad and vicious animals were not the only inhabitants of the crowded gloom. Wicked Elves took refuge there, all kinds of ruffians and out-laws, cunning and bloody. Oh how the driver wished the Princess had not been so hot-headed today as they plodded along praying in the growing thick silence.

Vegeta wiped his head wearily.

These hot days always made the forest unbearably close. It was at times like these when he longed to have wings alike to those damnable Faeries and fly above the knotted branches feeling the wind taste his skin, escaping from the suffocating earth. He almost smiled at the thought if he even had the muscles to do so, but in the end it only deepened his sour mood, for he was indeed denied this ability.

Letting out a furious roar he tried to vent some of the unrest within him. This did in fact minutely help as the birds and small woodland creatures hurried off in a flurry of fright. There was an unnatural tension in the forest today, everything seemed to be on edge, like something strange and foreign had entered the undergrowth.

"Perhaps it is just my blood, but I cannot sit still. Something is amiss here..but what?" Vegeta mused to himself. He did not quite know what he wanted to do, but it was not what anyone else would want. That was the typical theme of his days. He though perhaps it would be nice to kill something from spite. With a laugh that would bring a chill to the stoutest of hearts he bounded from his perch calling to his accomplice.

"Perieres! Stop torturing those poor little bunnies and come here! We're going hunting."

It seemed he had said the magic word for a few moments and thunderous crashes later Per appeared and was very excited about this 'hunting' business. The scaled body of the Hissing Pygmy Dragon came half bounding half hopping to Vegeta's side, its forked tongue idly lolling out of the side of its mouth like a large lumbering dog.

Per stood about half Vegeta's height and was covered in hard green scales with flashing golden eyes. Those eyes showed intelligence, great intelligence, enough to easily understand human speech, but unfortunately nature had made him unable to speak human tongue, the necessary sounds were impossible to for in his mouth, but Per had no trouble conveying what he wanted.

He wasn't the best at taking to the air either, Vegeta though with a laugh.

'Maybe I ought to put him on a diet, he looks a bit round for a dragon.'

He had known Perieres since he was hatched (I say 'known' for everyone is aware that it is quite impossible to own a dragon as in a pet, they chose to stay with whom they wish and if you try to make them do otherwise the consequences are dire and often permanent. For a dragon would rather die then be ruled or 'owned'), this was one of the rewards so to say of killing a large monstrous dragon for its treasure. The dragon was not the mother of the eggs for it was certainly no pygmy, but it had killed Per's true mother and was making a delightful snack of all the eggs. For some reason seeing this called up a violent rage in Vegeta, they never even had a chance to be born! There was only one left but he still had to stop it, being only a northern dragon he figured he might even live through the battle.

And a battle it was, Vegeta still wore some scars from the lashing tail and fierce claws. But being the terrible fearless warrior he was, Vegeta conquered in he end. He had thrust his long silver blade upwards in to the colossal mouth framed with daggers long enough to spear him right through. His sword thrust alone was not enough to kill a full grown dragon, but he had hit the spark gland that ignites a dragon's flames. This caused a huge bolt of electricity to course through the dragon ending its life.

Strangely enough her felt compassion for the creature in that egg he had risked his life to save, so he took it with him, and so Perieres came into his life. The only creature that gave a damn about him on this entire planet, they were bound together in their pain and isolation. Vegeta was more then pleased with his silent outgoing companion; it kept him sane especially on days like this. Per kept the overwhelming wave of loneliness that threatened to wash over Vegeta at bay, for no one can truly live completely alone.

Vegeta looked with as much affection as his cold eyes could muster at the awkward creature gazing up at him expectantly, and he gave a shout.

"Let's go Per, I'm sure there's something tasty out there!" and with that, the hunters and friends were off.

Bulma was very pleased with her decision, it had been an hour and no catastrophic events had occurred and the dense canopy kept the sun from bearing directly on them. The horses and the people getting spooked by strange noises, (other then Bulma herself of course), was the only difficulty thus far.

"Its all stories anyway, tales for children," she said to her servants with an airy confidence, "These woods are like any other."

Bulma had calmed a great deal simply knowing that they weren't going to be on the road for such an ungodly amount of time. As closterphobic as these woods seemed at times, there was something comforting about them, only Bulma seemed to think this though.

"I don't think they are just stories," squeaked one of the mousy serving women, She was the younger of the two and Bulma thought her name was Danae but wasn't sure.

"Well that is an unfortunate side effect of having no brain, isn't it?" Bulma replied haughtily.

"Well, many people who have dared to enter the woods are never seen again," Danae continued, "And those who are lucky enough to escape have spoken of the black ghost with an unquenchable taste for blood that haunts this forest riding a terrible fire breathing dragon killing all that crosses his path. They say he is like a grotesque man wolf with great red eyes and fangs and he drinks all your blood and uses your bones as jewelry and..."

"Enough!" Bulma cried exasperated, "I can't believe you actually listen to those ranting lunatics looking for a gullible ear. There is no such monster, so stop acting foolish girls or I shall have you gagged and stoned! If your eyes open any wider they will fall out of your head, now PEACE!" the last word sound quite odd coming from the fuming princess's lips.

Danae cowered back believing full and well that the sour princess would do just what she promised. There was many wicked tales about the Princess as well; no doubt she was just as terrible as anything they would encounter in this wretched place.

"I know your story is false for the trees are far too close for any terrible monster and dragon to make their way through without a great deal of trouble. And if there's one thing I know about monsters it is that they are lazy..." Bulma was cut off by a 'whirr' sound quickly followed by a thump right by her head. There was some kind of awful roaring and screams emanating from outside the coach which had come to an abrupt stop.

"We are going to die! The Black Ghost is upon us!" wailed the two servants in perfect craven unison. There was excited shout coming from the guards trying to defend themselves to no avail and Bulma reached for the handle of the coach but Danae caught her arm and shrieked in a headache causing voice, her eyes wide with terror, "No Princess!! You'll be killed, It'll drink you dry then come for us! Noooooo" she finished as she fainted into the arms of the other quivering woman.

Bulma simply snorted at her incompetence and cowardice, as she turned to continue her exit. There were 25 guards, what could possibly harm them? She paused as she listened to the deepest wildest voice she had ever heard say in an arrogant tone, "Don't try to fight, for if you do only death awaits as your companions will be glad to tell you, now, if you would hand over all that is of value, we'll be done here. Don't act like you didn't know this road had a toll." It finished with a wicked laugh that made Bulma's blood chill. Maybe it wasn't just stories after all.

"Damned Elf," she heard the driver mumble, thinking it too quite for the assailant to perceive but was obviously wrong.

"I would be careful if I were you, the heat is not agreeing with me today and I should very much like to pull your wings off one by one, then cut off your head and add it to my trophies," the voice said with more malevolence and anger then a voice could hold.

Bulma now felt her blood begin to boil. 'An Elf!? It is a filthy Elf? I shall kill this disease myself!' she though furiously to confront the disgusting Elf that presumed to impede her progress and rob her as well. The pure audacity and stupidity of this monster indeed!

Her eyes shone as if she had swallowed the pale blue moon as they met the cool black eyes of this damnable 'thing.'

Bulma's lungs immediately filled with a sharp intake of air at the sight, and her fury was quelled as a flame being doused with water.

He had intense eyes, like the spaces between the stars, endless black abysses that rendered the notion that she had no free will. Her anger was all but forgotten. Everything in the world was all but forgotten, except those eyes.

This was certainly no terrible beast.

He far surpassed the usual standard of beauty, and his features looked as if they belonged to a painting or some perfect sculpture. He stared at her hard as if he was going to burn her up with his mere gaze, under those eyes Bulma found it increasingly hard to release her angry words. Who is this man? What sort of devil is he?

It was long moment of intense silence before Bulma felt her will return to her, as well as her anger, and finally spat, "What fool assumes to attack the royal procession of the House of King Aeolus and Queen Harmonia? This astounding trespass shall not go unpunished!"

It probably wasn't the best thing to advertise but it was all that came out, and it did have a nice ring to it. Bulma felt at once proud of her heritage. Still her voice lacked the cutting edge she normally mastered, her voice was refusing to comply.

To say Vegeta was shocked when the shining blue woman burst from the carriage in fury was a drastic understatement.

It was his first experience of something taking his breath away as the flushed ethereal goddess crashed into his presence. What was such a beauty doing traveling here? She stood staring back at him with poise that few others could rival under his harsh eyes. She was serene and motionless, yet she had the ability to appear moving though she was standing still.

But what caught his attention the most was there was enough gloom in those blue eyes to please a dozen undertakers.

As she announced the nature of the procession he realized she must be the Princess, but never had he seen any Faerie, let alone their Princess, with so much darkness. Was it even possible for those creatures of the light?

He was extremely intrigued by it and suddenly nothing else was worth looking at, he couldn't make himself look at anything else.

At Bulma's words the beautifully dark Elf began approaching her slowly, his eyes glittering like little knifes, and she found her breath had become caught in her throat again. His wry lips squirmed back like worms of pain revealing an empty smile. She wanted to strike him down, to tell him how much she loathed him and all his people, but she couldn't.

Then in a flash he was against her, and she had never felt so deliciously intruded, yet there was an unnervingly sharp blade against her tender throat.

"Now, now, is that any way to talk to someone who is attacking you? I don't think you are stupid Princess so please don't insult yourself. Yes, it is Princess isn't it? With a flick of my wrist I could take out the sole heir to the Fey throne," Vegeta in fact had no intention of harming this precious creature, he just wanted to be close do such divinity, to feel her pulsing blood against him. To feel her fear, as it was the only emotion he understood.

"What is such a delicate 'royal' thing like you doing in a dark place like this, and with such pathetic protection, for I am just one man. Just one, and Per of course but still..this for the most valuable possession of the kingdom? I do believe you are the thing I should steal. Maybe I'll just take you with me, would you like that princess?" he whispered, his hot breath on her ear and his free hand wantonly traveling down her side.

Suddenly Bulma had her rage back and let out a vicious cry, flinging the beast backwards. "Unhand me you disgusting ruffian! I will have you killed for this you...you..Elf!" she searched for a loathsome enough title to encompass this beast, and finding his species insult enough, "You only dream that something as fair as me would touch filth like you!"

But Bulma felt the sting of his words. She knew she wasn't even close to the kingdoms most valuable possession and maybe they had sent her with such protection hoping to get rid of her. Her rage came from that as much as the Elf.

"Come now your highness, no need to get upset, I wasn't going to do anything to you. I was referring to the lovely necklace you are wearing," he ended by ripping the jewel abrasively from her, so she could feel the impact of his words.

Bulma turned her despair into anger and flew into a rebuttal, "You barbarian! Now I know my hate for your kind is well founded, I hope the gods soon put an end to your mistake of a race!"

"You think you're better then me? It's hard to be worse then dirt, Princess, you are just like us. Maybe one day you'll learn that not everything is as it seems and stop doing all your dear parents tell you in your perfect little world," he said coldly.

Bulma faltered, confused why in the midst of her anger she still wished for him to be up against her again, yet she still found her voice.

"My 'parents' are simply people whose view about everything I find abominable, no Elf; things AREN'T always what they seem. I am traveling through these woods because my parents can't stand my presence any longer, so if it is your will, take all you want. Call it toll, call it whatever you wish as long as it will cause more grief for them. How is that for a perfect little world?" she said equally as cold, the ice entering her veins, wondering why she cared so much what this abominable elf thought.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at her sudden submission and gloomy confession, and was slightly disappointed that he would be denied sight of this fair creature so soon, but he completed his undertaking unwilling for that fact to be known.

"Well then, the pleasure was all mine," he said smirking at her, and as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.

"Good riddance," Bulma seethed, still boiling with rage.

Yet nothing terribly tragic had happened, only three of the guards were dead, and she cared for them naught. Still, this all was sure to send her parents into a fury, not that the thought of that was a sad one to Bulma.

But it didn't make sense for him not to kill her, why had he left her unharmed? That Elf and his burning eyes had unnerved her in a most upsetting way.

'And I did like that necklace,' she thought as the remainder of the party hurried to escape this wretched place.

'Only to arrive somewhere just as wretched, if not more, and meet with a very upset old woman at her granddaughters choice of route' Bulma brooded, still shaken and absorbed in thoughts of dark eyes.

AN: hope you enjoyed the latest installment, tell me what ya think! Thanks for reading


	7. Chapter 6

Stolen Hearts Chapter Six

Stolen Hearts Chapter Six

The past two weeks has been agonizingly unbearable. Just when Bulma was assured things couldn't possibly be any worse, it started to rain. She was practically a slave here! The things that sententious witch expected her to do were atrocious! If she has to clean the kitchen one more time she would die! Who knew what was left of the chicken was so horrid?

And Bulma could certainly stand no more of the harsh words constantly lashing at her like a whip, if she didn't know better she would have to say dear old Grandmother was enjoying this, enjoying seeing Bulma in pain, the woman's beady eyes glinting with satisfaction at her distress. At least Bulma was too busy to think much of her misfortune; this cottage must be the cleanest house in the entire wide world. Not one particle of dust offends its corners.

Grandmother seemed even more ardent that her granddaughter achieve Zeladonii then even her parents. It would seem that she wanted to have the recognition of being able to bring Bulma to that level, the girl who couldn't get anything right. It has become a personal crusade of hers and Bulma's lessons have left her both physically and mentally exhausted.

But good news had come today; Bulma would be allowed to return home from this revolting jail in three days time. She never though she would be so glad to go back to that place, but after an extended amount of time with her fascist dictator of a relative, anywhere looked good.

"Now, here is a list of the exact flowers and plants I need. I trust you know them by now. I expect no less then perfection, do you understand me? I won't accept another failure from you girl you've been allowed too many as it is," she said as if they were marks in a game, "I'm not like those push-over parents of yours. I'll let them know your work isn't finished here and you'll have to stay. I swear I will. If it were me raising you, you'd be straightened out by now. Nothing a little hard work won't cure; those hands of yours aren't nearly calloused enough. If only you could be more like your sister Camilla. It's a shame."

Bulma felt her throat tighten and her eyes sting. 'No, I have lasted this long without giving her the satisfaction of seeing me break down, I will not start today,' she told herself, but it was easier said then done. She knew the 'shame' was not that she was unlike Camilla, but that Camilla was dead and she alive. Everyone thought this yes, but that was the closest anyone had ever come to saying it to her face. That she should have been the one to die not Camilla, or Psyche and Nisus for that matter.

"Yes grandmother, I will not fail you," Bulma replied impassively as she hurried to escape those harsh unrelenting eyes that screamed of disappointment.

Why...

Why...

Tears blurred her vision and she broke into a run, not knowing where she was going and not caring. She didn't know what half the things on that list were and she sure as hell was never going to find them. She ran, and ran, time blurring away, just the burning in her legs and in her heart was real.

"Why couldn't it have been me?!" Bulma screamed to the sky as she tumbled down to her knees unable to go any further. It wasn't like she could escape what she was fleeing from anyway.

"Why!!" the word constantly choked through her sobs.

Gods know she wished the same as the others did, maybe in her death her life would mean something. If only she could give them back their beloved children they deserved, not a mistake like her. She didn't deserve life..she was a hopeless purposeless wraith cursed to rain sorrow upon this earth. If only she could make them happy, happy the way they once were in the days of her youth. She would do anything to earn a smile from her parents, but she had already ruined that by simply existing and being a constant reminder of what could have been. It was all gone now.

She was crying too hard to realize the approach of the vile creatures. They heard he wails and came to see what had blundered into their land and if it was good to eat. They were a clan of Trolls, ruthless and irritable by nature. Trolls are not especially intelligent and are often associated with rock or stone. They are tough ugly creatures with tough rock like skin and have the power to regenerate even if hacked apart. The only way to stop a Troll from regenerating is burning the monster.

Trolls diet is unusual, as they will eat anything including metal, bone, wood & rocks. The stomachs of trolls contain very powerful digestive acids, this has led them to an unpleasant form of attack of vomiting over their target; an extremely painful attack. Sometimes Trolls use basic hand weapons such as clubs or large stones. This group was not looking for anything in particular; they had just consumed a whole side of a mountain this morning and were spending the afternoon digesting.

It is for this reason that Bulma was not killed right away. Instead they were curious and took the time to look at the strange creature they had come across; they were in a rare playful mood.

She would never know of her luck, she was too consumed with sorrow to see anything hopeful happening to her, she only knew that there were monsters and how unfortunate for her too come across them, as always.

"Uragah, yes, it is a pretty thin isn't it? Grand pretty, yes?"

"Looks good enough to eat, yes, does pretty taste good?"

"No, Crog not hungry now. Can't just eat such pretty, want to play. Nrag. Look at its head, Crog never seen such a head, we keep it around to look at, yes. Our Queen yes yes! Gragrararararara!"

"Yes yes, Gragragragragra!," chanted the others stupidly, they did not really understand the concept of having a Queen, but it sounded grand and this pretty thing look grand so it must be some sort of possession to brag about, Troll were always concerned about being the best.

Bulma stared horrified at the hideous fiends' laughing manically in front of her. If you could call it a laugh, maybe it was some sort of rally grunt that they started up when successful. There were so many! Where had they all come from? Had she been that out of it? To miss that awful stench that hovered around them she must have been dead.

She scooted instinctively backwards as best she could, but she was partially paralyzed from being this close to the monstrous Trolls. Yes they weren't large, but they were so horrible to look at it made her faint. Is this the death she had wished for? Had the Gods finally answered her?

'No,' she thought as panic laced with bravery surged through her body, 'No, I am not afraid, not like this no, I don't want to die; I don't know what I'm doing in this life but I don't want death, no!' As a cold rough hand enclosed around her ankle, her thoughts came bursting out in a scream that made the earth tremble.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

It shocked the beasts enough for them to take a leap away with the commanding tone the voice held. They sat stupidly wondering if this blue winged creature was some forest goddess ready to shoot lightening at them from her eyes, but they were soon back upon her realizing she posed no threat. Their countless unkind hands were harshly gripping at her none to gently, the sharp point of their razor claws pushing into her skin.

"AAAAH, NO! GET AWAY YOU BEASTLY..BEASTS! AWAY! OH GODS HELP!!" she cried in a frenzied anguish as she flung about hopelessly trying to escape those claws, not feeling much pain from their punctures in her adrenaline craze. They were half dragging half pushing her along, off to some deep dark pit filled of their awful stench no doubt. Bulma's attacks began to lessen in despair.

Although the Princess (soon to be Troll Queen) did land quite a few well placed hits, it was clear the Trolls were not giving up and that she was no match for their numbers.

But then, there was a strange sound, then again, and again. It wasn't until Bulma found the courage to open her eyes that she saw it was the sound of Troll's being beheaded. They took up yells and yammering, howls and curses, and shrieking that were beyond description. Several hundred wildcats and wolves being roasted alive could not have compared to it.

A strong voice rose above it all. Bulma could not see who it belonged to for she had shut her eyes again at the horrid sight of a headless Troll, not so much from fear, but from the pure ugliness of it.

"Silence you brainless beasts! You asked for this, you know I am the sole rule in this forest and all in it belongs to me! So run along to your hateful knaves, unless of course you think you would look better without a head."

"Your mother is a Fragged ardrvark!" one boldly declared only to be missing his head a heartbeat later.

"Any other objections?"

"No, no black death, a thousand apologies for the trespasses..we grovel sir, grovel at your feet, oh great one, don't want to hurt little us, mercy, Mercy!" they said and scampered off not trusting to be entitled to their heads in a moments time.

Vegeta frowned at their retreating forms.

"And I was just starting to have fun," He murmured to himself

Per yelped in agreement. It was rare he passed up a chance to pester Trolls and a large group of particularly troublesome ones were known to reside in this area, so when they had heard the screams Vegeta could hardly keep up with him as he raced to investigate.

But Vegeta never expected the screams to be coming from her.

Vegeta at once recognized the beautiful Faerie from their previous encounter and a strange fury of protectiveness rose within him that he didn't understand, nor stoped to question at the time. Only viciously reacting with his gut, leaving about a dozen dead Trolls, and Per was happy to assist in crushing another half.

Now we have to understand something. It may be confusing why a seemingly ruthless killer like Vegeta would care enough to save some one, but he was constantly fighting an inner battle. He did believe in using might for right, but it conflicted horribly with his nature. He didn't think he should help her, but he had to.

It was the bad people that need principles to restrain them. In the secret parts of his peculiar brain, those unhappy and inextricable tangles which he felt at the roots, that he was disabled by something which cannot be explained. Perhaps it was nature, perhaps it was fate, but underneath that beautiful magnificent shell there was only shame and self-loathing that was planted there when he was tiny. He thought himself ugly. It is so fatally easy to make children believe they are horrible.

He slowly turned to look upon the Princess, he didn't think she would be handling this well since she certainly wouldn't be used to the situation considering her sheltered lifestyle.

To his surprise she wasn't shaking or crying, just squeezing her eyes shut as if hoping for it all to disappear, but it all seemed to hang on a very slight edge.

"Oh what now? You are alive aren't you?" he said nastily for his inspection had shown him that she was about to cry and if he spoke in a kind voice she would break down and do it.

It worked. She no longer wanted to cry, she wanted to kick whoever dare speak to her in such a tone.

Bulma raised her head fiercely to see who had saved her, and to see if it was worse then a Troll. And it was. By far.

"You!!" Bulma said, the word rich with surprised contempt.

"Surprised? Now Princess, it's not very becoming to lie on the ground like that with your dress torn to shreds pouting. Get up, you are fine..thanks to me," he finished superciliously.

"Thanks to you?!" her blue eyes flamed with anger, "I would rather give thanks to a Troll! You pompous prick! Whatever you are thinking about doing to me in that barbaric LITTLE mind of yours, you can forget it. I do NOT belong to you!"

"Well you're very welcome," he said feigning injustice and regarded her bitterly as she stood, returning the look.

"It would've been a jolly good thing," she concluded, "If the Trolls had come and eaten YOU!" It was perhaps a little childish, but she was cheered by the vision.

"Stay away from me, you are never to lay and hand on me, do you hear?!" she said as she hurried away feeling very uncomfortable under his gaze, even though he made no move toward her. She could only imagine the sick and twisted ideas floating through his filthy Elvin mind.

Bulma couldn't help but let her overly adrenaline charged brain fill with a mixture of outrage and panic, as she was not in the most stable mind set right now.

Vegeta was amused and decided it would be quite entertaining to see what she would do if he actually did pursue her, so her leapt forward massively in a mock attack.

Unfortunately Bulma had reached the precipice of a short but steep hill at that precise moment, and her evasive maneuver sent her tumbling down landing with a sickening snap at the bottom.

She lay dazed in pain where she fell, not wanting to move, not wanting to know what had snapped.

Vegeta jumped easily down the embankment, silently chastising himself, though he would never admit to feeling worried. Why had she bewitched him into giving a shit? It was so very tedious.

"Are you alright?" Vegeta asked wondering why that came out of his mouth.

"What do you think idiot?" Bulma moaned surprised at the amount of anger she could muster.

"Well I'd help, but I've been ordered not to lay a hand on you."

"Bastard," Bulma groaned as she sat up, looking quite frazzled from her recent fall and Troll attack.

She was bleeding and bruised almost everywhere, her dress was ripped horribly beyond repair, and not one strand of her defiant hair was in place. She was losing the will to be angry through her pain, and now she just felt miserable and alone. She had run so far in her previous heartbreak that she had no idea where she was.

'Great, lost and broken with a murderous Elf,' she thought morosely, 'As if my life couldn't get any worse.'

His words broke her tangled thoughts, "What do you see in my eyes?"

Bulma was taken aback by the sudden question; it was almost seemed he was worried. She complied, too confused to object. There was a shield, his face was a face that could be easily lifted and used as a mask of indifference at a stoic's convention.

"Well?"

"Nothing!" she yelled frustrated, "But that doesn't mean there isn't anything to see!"

He seemed satisfied with her answer, but slightly uneasy for a moment before he regained his calm.

Vegeta didn't want her to know he cared. She already didn't seem to fear him, so he couldn't possibly have her thinking that he wouldn't just leave her ass right here for the Trolls to devour.

"I'm cursed," she grumbled forlornly, feeling the pain throb through her.

"Well you are certainly clumsy enough to make one believe so, but it could be worse. Your ankle is broken, so you're not going to be able to carry yourself anywhere. There is nothing for miles do you realize that? Now I'm willing to be the bigger person and put aside my past beliefs and personal dislike for you," he smirked as that earned a glare but she remained silent, "And help someone as distressed as you. I will take you wherever you wish, under one condition."

"What," Bulma said nervous, but never stopping her hateful glare.

"You apologize," He said mockingly with an evil grin," My feelings are quite hurt."

Vegeta had taken due notice of the wayward Princess's unruly pride and knew nothing would upset her more. Little did she know that the thought of carrying her in his arms and feeling her close to him again was actually exciting the emotionless killer. He mused at the fact as she steamed, bubbled, and boiled over.

"Are you serious? Never!" she barked. Sure the situation was serious, but it wasn't THAT serious. She could drag herself somewhere!

"Fine then, I hope the Trolls don't come back any time soon. But I guess you think they are better then me anyway. More then just Trolls come out at night though," Vegeta continued evilly, leaning in close, "and they are much, much worse." Vegeta finished smugly with a wicked smile as he rose to walk away.

Bulma considered this as she reluctantly watched his retreating form. She always had an over active imagination anyway and her recent encounter with the disgusting Trolls was not helping.

"Wait, wait!" Bulma called exasperatedly. She took a deep breath and looked upwards, "Ok fine, you win, I'm sorry."

"Aw, now, didn't that feel good?" he said with such a disgusting arrogance that Bulma couldn't stand it anymore.

'To hell with it, I'd rather been devoured by monsters then lower myself to this jerk!' she thought defiantly.

"I'm sorry you're so ugly!"

To her shock he wasn't angry, he, he burst into laughter. Was he mocking her?

"You surprise me Princess, pleasantly. I would have been horribly disappointed if you had caved that easy," he said smoothly as he stooped and pulled her carefully into his arms.

"What..what are you doing?" Bulma stammered, she felt awkward but safe in his strong arms. She had to cling to his neck to steady herself. He smelled delicious.

"Well, what did you expect? Me to wave my hands over you and have you magically transported? I posses no such magic Princess, we have to do this the old fashioned way. Now where do I have to lug your fat carcass to, I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible. Thank heavens its cooler then last week."

Bulma made some unintelligible sounds or rage, the only thing Vegeta could make out was something about scratching his eyes out when she was well.

"Sounds promising," he said with a slight glimmer of a smile.

"You cretin! I'm NOT fat!" she finally managed to form a coherent sentence, "Your dragon is fat!"

Per gave her an indignant hiss.

"Ha, indeed, but it's from eating maidens like you, so I'd be careful and show some respect if I were you."

Per looked approvingly at Vegeta.

"Well you're not, thank god for that," Bulma said, "No respect there."

Per looked at Vegeta.

"Yes thank god for that," Vegeta said.

Per made a gurgling sound that resembled a laugh.

Bulma hissed.

Vegeta glared.

Per gurgled.

And so the small circus was a unity, Bulma not wanting to be helped but having no choice, Vegeta not wanting to help but having no choice. They were bound together by the link of pain to which they both agreed without question.

And Per gurgled.

AN: So what are these two in for? Hmmm….Review please and thank you !


	8. Chapter 7

Stolen Hearts Chapter Seven

Stolen Hearts Chapter Seven

Bulma had decided for him to just take her home to the palace, she didn't think she could face her grandmother like this, and she did not want to give up this strange sense of freedom she felt. Nothing is more wonderful then the art of being free, but nothing is harder to learn how to use then freedom.

The first part of their journey was spent in angry silence until Bulma, who was unable to take in any more at that moment, fell asleep. She sighed and let her head fall back against his chest in exhaustion and soon knew no more.

Vegeta found it hard to be angry at her when she was like that.

'Amazing how such a pain in the ass can look so peaceful asleep,' he thought to himself amazed at the alien gentleness he felt towards her despite her bitchiness. In a way that what he found endearing, for that was an emotion her knew how to handle well.

These new feelings were much harder to deal with.

It was not often Vegeta had contact with others, especially for so long, so this was a new strange land to him. She was soft and deliciously warm and pleasant to look at.

Bulma awoke some hours later on a soft bed of grass that permeated the air with a wonderful aroma of life. The leaves above her were not only green, but also silver and blue when the wind stirred them. She stretched languidly; smiling softly to herself as the dappled light came sneaking through the canopy above her. It wasn't a suffocating canopy like that of the dark forest, but more of a protective one that put you at ease. It seemed more like she was waking into a dream rather that into reality as the faint but soothing sounds of meadowlarks and rushing water came to her ears. For the first time in a long while she felt the glow of nature.

As Bulma came around she slowly remembered the past events of the day with a groan as the pain made itself noticeable when she sat up to further examine her surroundings. At first she was dazzled by the sunlight dancing off the nearby water fall, and then_ he_ came into view.

What she saw was not the Elfish brute that had rescued her, but a god.

He was crouched beside the pond running the cool water over his shimmering satin skin. Tiny rivulets fanned down his chiseled back making it sparkle with life, flexing with every move. He turned slightly and she saw his eyes were closed, smoky lashes fluttering slightly against high cheekbones, full lips, sharp nose, deep auburn highlights of the black upswept hair revealed by the sun, all the elegant features that were utterly beautiful beyond compare.

'How could I have ever hated something so beautiful?' Bulma thought with a rush of strange emotion, 'How can such poison be so fair? Nothing that beautiful can be evil.'

She simply watched dazed from a moment feeling suddenly lightheaded, as if it the world were some play unfolding before her and the striking man who had rescued her was the dashing hero.

But no. He was no romantic hero, and this was certainly no amusing play, Bulma realized slowly coming to her senses. He looked lost...unhappy, a look that made her want to reach out and say she understood.

She saw now his face ravaged by all the passions of being an absolute villain- by cruelty, sorrow, age beyond his years, pride, selfishness, loneliness, and thoughts too strong for an individual alone. His mouth seemed permanently drawn downward in a kind of melancholy. He was remorseless, disillusioned, logical, predatory, fierce, pitiless.

But then he opened his eyes. She saw his great dark jewel eyes that were of a stricken deer, large, fearful, sensitive, and full of grieves. Perhaps he was just as lost as her, just as out of place and misunderstood. Was it possible that the understanding she had been craving all her life was found in this, the most unlikely of places?

It was when she realized he was indeed a real person that she began to wonder about him, about how he got to be this way. Her brows furrowed together remembering she hadn't even bothered to ask his name. She struggled with her preconceived notions of Elves and speculated if they were ill-placed. For this man at least.

"Uh… excuse me?" She muttered, not knowing what to say, and not entirely wanting to disturb the beautiful and peaceful scene before her. What if he did turn out to be just as evil as she initially assumed?

'Oh god I sound lame,' she thought as soon as it came out, "Um, you know my name but yours still remains a mystery, pray tell?

Those eyes turned to her and quickly covered up whatever was there before, becoming hard as ice again, and he answered simply, "My name is Vegeta."

After a quite moment he continued with slightly more humor in his smooth voice, "Have you decided to be civil now Princess?"

"…….Maybe," Bulma said slowly, for she really wasn't sure what she was intending to do, but she was weary of flighting. She let the water call her to it, beside him.

"Vegeta," she rolled the name over her tongue wondering what lay in those simple syllables, "That's not a very good killer's name."

"And what would be?" he questioned sounding, dare we say, slightly amused?

"I don't know..Thor or something. Something with more umph, not Vegeta."

"Thor? I supposed you thing Crog would be a more befitting name for me as well."

"I never said it was befitting for you, Vegeta fits you perfectly I think. It's just not a killer's name."

"I see, and you are the expert on this I suppose?"

"Of course, I am a princess, that's what princess' ought to be. A perfect expert."

"Well I'm sorry to burst your bubble but I am a killer, so your whole little theory is wrong," he said triumphantly.

"I'm never wrong," but Bulma could not say that with a straight face and she let out a stifled laugh, much to her embarrassment. Vegeta almost looked entertained by the sound, and Bulma again felt the strange desire to know this enigma of a man.

Why were there so many contradictions in his eyes? What made him laugh? What was his childhood like? His family? What made his cry? What did he look like when he was asleep? What was his favorite color? Does he have any hobbies other then villainy? Where does he like to be touched?

What would it be like to kiss him?

The illicitness and surprise of her last though brought a blush to her cheeks and she turned slightly away, but she could not tear her eyes away from him entirely. She was entrapped. All she knew was that she saw herself reflected in those eyes. This Elf seemed as if he could understand her like no one else could. How ironic.

Her brows knotted again at the flow of her forbidden thoughts that came forth relentlessly, whether she wanted them or not. Emotion: Agitation or disturbance of mind; vehement or excited mental state. It is also a powerful and irrational monster. And from what Bulma could gather, there seemed little doubt that she was, indeed... its slave.

'It must be madness form the pain and stress of this day,' she told herself warily, refusing to be foolish.

Vegeta regarded her skeptically. Her face was like an open book, he could easily see the mixture of emotions crossing it in a flurry.

"You think too much, your life is safe in my hands," his said, surprised by the amount of softness his voice held, assuming her distress came from a fear for her life.

If Bulma had been a sheet she would've been all crinkled and balled up, and his voice was like a hand smoothing it out flat and even. She noted that he mistook her agitation for concern about her safety, but she did not argue. Instead she changed the subject.

"I was taught with an emphasis on the sea since my element is Water.," Bulma said the first thing that came to her mind staring into the crystal water, " They said that the Merpeople are highly intelligent beings and the most peaceful of all, and that we should all strive to learn from their three essential wisdoms. 1. Have patience like the sea, 2. Move with the rhythm of life around you, and 3. Know that all things touch all others, as all life touches the sea."

He remained silent, and she continued, asking suddenly, "Do you ever feel like you were given the wrong life?"

"I guess what you get is what you get," he said after a moment with a raised eyebrow, "There's nothing you can do about it so why ponder it? There is nothing except the power which one pretends to seek. Love and emotion are tricks played on us by the forces of evolution. Pleasure is bait laid down by the same. There is only power. Power of the individual mind, but the mind's power is not enough. Power of the body decides everything in the end, only might is worthwhile."

He swam out deeper into the pool when he finished, not wanting to look into her eyes. He suddenly couldn't bear her thinking him a heartless beast.

"Well that was a depressing speech," Bulma responded with a frown, her eyes dutifully following him, "Do you really believe it? I suppose you are right. Happiness is just an illusion; it is never easy. Even smiling makes my face ache. But……still."

She paused letting her thought amble and absorb her surroundings, before she continued, "This place is so pure and crisp. Untouched and beautiful in all its innocent glory. I hope our presence here doesn't leave stark, ugly footprints in this untainted world. Freedom is mine. The earth is still and I feel the wind. I breathe again, and the sky clears, for the world is waking. I drink from the pool, and the taste is so clean. I think I might feel happy…"

Bulma stopped short with an embarrassed laugh as she put her face in her hands. It seemed so ludicrous but she felt… different. How sad is it when you don't even know what happy felt like?

Vegeta looked curiously at the princess who seemed to have slipped of into her own world. "Maybe you just need more opportunities to practice smiling because muscles are out of use."

"Yes perhaps," Bulma replied, slowly coming back to herself as her eyes fell on a patch of perfectly pink flowers by the waters edge. A familiar rage filled her.

"Why are they here?" she grumbled offended.

And again he said the most surprising thing as his eyes became locked with hers inextricably.

"I supposed they are here to remind us of a beauty we can never attain nor posses."

Bulma's breath shortened. "That is the most sensible answer I have ever heard," she said with an edge of wonder, anxious of the growing feeling in her stomach.

"You should come in. Have you ever bathed in a crisp forest pool that runs over multicolored stones glinting in the sun? The water will soothe your pain, trust me" he said as he came and pulled her in mesmerized by his voice and eyes. He whispered in her ear, "Don't try to hold it in, I won't tell anyone if you smile."

Insanity lay in that direction, Bulma could taste it on the back of her tongue, but she was unable and unwilling to refuse. And it frightened her in the most exciting way.

Just when you think you are sure, something happens that turns your whole world upside down, and maybe this time, it was a good thing. Her face was a desert when it came to smile, but here she was smiling and laughing in his arms like a carefree child. She should know better, she should hate him, but she decided to ignore logic, just for today. She needed to feel this however contrived and unnatural it was.

She was caught in his arms, the arms of this divinely beautiful creature and she had no desire to be set free. It was her will to be caught, perhaps mostly subconscious, but it is that part of us that is the truest. They jested and splashed through the waterfall with the surprisingly playful energy despite their normal temperaments of doom and gloom. It seemed like today when the world wasn't watching they were able to breathe freely and let go of their unsettling pasts that lurked behind them.

Bulma liked his mouth and imagined it kissing her everywhere. She liked his hands and imagined them touching her everywhere. She knew these thoughts were foolish and wrong to have toward such a beast, but she came to realize that she could not hold them back any more then she could stop the sun from rising. And she couldn't make herself believe he was a beast, not looking into those eyes. Yes there were whispers of warning in the back of her head about being crushed, but they were not enough to over come the music of his laugh, or the melody of his smile that made her feel a fire never felt before.

Vegeta had to remind himself that he was swimming in his secret forest pond, the clearest and purest of all, with the Faerie Princess. If he had told anyone, they would have said he was completely mad if he expected them to believe his claim. But he had no one to tell, so it mattered not.

As surreal as the beautiful woman was before him with the visage of an angel, he knew this was indeed real, too real for comfort. His strangely racing heart would not let him forget that. His very foundation was rattled to the core by these feelings that bombarded him out of nowhere. What the hell was he doing this for? Was he just a sucker for punishment? He vowed long ago he would never let anyone get close enough to hurt him, to break through his exterior defensives. There was not much he could do to deny the magnetic attraction he felt, even as much as he screamed to himself, this was not right!

Life could always surprise him with the strangest twists.

Bulma felt his eyes upon her again; intense and unabashed with an unearthly aura about them that drew her in. It would indeed have been frightening, if she had not been lost in incoherency, how she longed for his touch, her whole body awake and tingling for the feeling of his skin against hers.

She moved slowly, as if worried something was about to break and ruin this moment, this strangely perfect moment that she clung to. It would have to be enough to get her through hundreds of dark nights, so she had to make it count. She shifted in his arms and brought her legs to rest around his strong waist and her hands were wrapped around his neck.

He heart slammed against he chest like a hummingbird, 'What am I doing, What am I doing?!' she thought desperately, but her fears soon were realized to be unfounded.

He pulled her close, a free hand brushing away damp hair that stubbornly clung to the side of her face, impeding him from caressing the soft surface. He barley touched the surface of the skin, as if afraid that if he did he would ruin her somehow and she would dissipate, leaving him alone. Bulma shook her head in an effort to assist in deflecting her hair, scattering sliver gleams of light as she did so.

'What if this is my last chance to feel alright?' Bulma thought with an edge of desperation as she grasped his hand and pressed it firmly to the side of her face, looking unblinking and un-fearing into his eyes. She wanted to show him that she was there and she was a real hot-blooded creature that didn't want to be alone any more then he did.

In a quick unplanned movement she leaned up to ensnare him in a simple kiss.

It was as if she had stolen her kiss from those luscious impassive lips, and Bulma suddenly felt childish and fretted over what the repercussions of her actions would be.

When she finally could stand the silence no longer she impishly raised her eyes to his. His lips remained slightly parted and he looked awkward and surprised but extremely pleased.

Time stood still. They were all that existed. He held her hand and kissed her cheek, not a swift peck, but a slow lingering kiss that held visions of passion infinitely delicate. Not at all what she would've expected from a man like him.

Bulma felt instantly deliciously strange. She took several deep breaths and pressed her hands to her heart to keep it from pounding right through her chest. She wanted to be lying naked with him. She wanted to see what he really looked like, not some reflection in a pool whose surface had just been disturbed. This was against all they knew, but it was obvious what they needed to do right now was to forget themselves completely.

She captured his lips in a searing kiss of uncontrollable ardor that she actually did feel. For the first time she felt it, oh god she felt it! The delightful burning touch of lo...he had to have felt it too the way he was reciprocating her affections with just as much if not more intensity.

All worries previously harbored slipped away into obscurity as they could think of nothing else then the warm body pressed against theirs. They became lost in the strange new world of each other's arms, and it was electrifying. It was all they knew, and it had a wonderful taste of defiance.

Vegeta was beside himself as his lips moves furiously against hers. She made him feel like he wasn't just a heartless killer, he didn't want to be that façade he had made himself anymore. She made him want to be something he could never be.

He wasn't even a decent being, let alone something she deserved. But she smiled at him, a smile that said she understood. That as hard as it was to smile, she could feel free to do it in front of him. He knew it was too much to assume that he had made the ethereal beauty show her breathtaking smile. A smile that made him forget his troubles, and slip into a sedated content state, vulnerable and uncaring.

Vulnerable.

No.

He pulled away.

It was because of this that he had to try and keep himself as detached as possible. He had to. There was no other way. Daydreams were not real, not in his life.

Bulma blinked, confused and slightly angry that those delicious lips were taken away from her. He had pulled away and now wore a conflicted almost angry look, as if he had given in to something despised. It wrenched her insides. How could she care so much of what he thought so quickly? What was this new madness? She needed to get control of herself and quickly.

"No," he said, whether to himself or to her she could not tell.

"What?" Bulma said evenly with little emotion.

"We can't do this," he returned, just as devoid of emotion. It was if they had expended all their narrow hearts could muster in the previous act.

"Oh that's rich," Bulma said with a bitterness she could always depend on. No one had ever dared reject her before. She clumsily attempted to exit the pool, away from that fiend of hell, but the pain was hard to ignore.

"Wait," he called, emotion slowly sneaking back into his voice as he moved to help her. She angrily shoved him away.

"Don't touch me! I was a fool to agree to this whole scam in the first place, let the wolves come! I shall make it on my own or not at all. Thank you SIR!" There was no illusion of gratitude in the title.

"Bulma listen! I just, I just don't think I have it in me," he finished lamely, as if unsure of what he did in fact want. He had virtually no experience with this slew of new feelings and he didn't like the lack of control. Not one bit.

There was a war going on inside him. One side said to leave her and run as far away as you can, and the other side screamed to stay and never let her go. It was maddening!

Vegeta was very interested with the ground suddenly, not being able to look her in the eyes, as she stood in stony silence, indisposed to help him at all.

"I want it to be...more, and I don't think that is possible so it is better to stop it here isn't it? If it can't be what we want, we shouldn't pretend right?" his vague words came out in a muddle, but Bulma got the meaning clear enough, she was angry anyway so it made it easy to be harsh. She was angry at herself for being so weak, and she was angry at him for not being stronger.

"Yes, you are right. You could never have me. It is better this way."

Vegeta jerked as if physically trying to rid himself of something then said blankly, "Let's just forget it. We should be on our way again. You are hurt and I must get you to a healer. It's not much further now."

"By the gods I hope so," Bulma sighed under her breath as she allowed herself to be drawn back into the burly arms which were far more uncomfortable now.

So they pressed on with a passionate pace, wrecking the present because the future was bound to be a wreck.

AN: Thanks for reading, hope you are enjoying the angst!


	9. Chapter 8

Stolen Hearts Chapter Eight

Stolen Hearts Chapter Eight

The heat made everything in its path long for the shade; the sun was always overhead, as if you might reach up and touch it. Its heat bore down on you, first as a warning and then as a punishment for sins too numerous to count. It burned away any sweet memory of cool waterfalls and crystal ponds in its terrible blaze, and it only increased the tension and discomfort of the two travelers regrettably caught under its unforgiving rays.

"How much further is this place you speak of? I bet you lost your way and just don't want to look stupid, well too late!" Bulma snapped crossly in her throbbing pain that seemed to only increase with each passing moment.

"You are really asking for it aren't you? Keep in mind I'm the one actually doing the work here lugging your helpless mass around! I know this forest like the back of my hand thank you very much and the village is right over this next hill. If you would like to crawl the rest of the way, just let me now and I will be more then happy to comply! You think I enjoy this? I'm simply finishing what is started because I am a man of my Word as difficult as that may be for you to understand. If I throw you over a cliff now this whole ordeal will have been for nothing, and I simply can't do that to my sanity. I admit I was wrong. I should have left you there with the Trolls and you would have made a perfectly terrible queen that would make even Trolls look amiable!" he returned in a venomous tirade, for he was just as irritable in the midday heat and completely ready to let the bitch find her own way.

Bulma noticed with anger that his hands were getting less and less gentle and was ready to unleash her own hell for she had lost all common sense in this weather. If she had been level headed she would have realized that he was on his last string and it would not be wise to push further, but it seems some sort of luck was with her for at that very moment they came upon their sought after 'village'.

Even though it seemed to pop up out of nowhere it was no simple village, but a large center of life, with buildings of all sorts spreading out before them. There were some cleared spots and others were nestled among the trees, forming a labyrinth of structures that would be quite confusing to one who had never been in such a place. Most that were here though were accustomed to this way of life, a life alien to Bulma, and were very comfortable with the surging hubbub of the main town in the vast untamed expanse of Wilderland.

Still to Bulma's eyes the place was extremely rustic. She wondered how so many people could live so primitively, but they all seemed quite fine with it. They did not know of anything better so this place remained their sanctuary, it was far better then the alternative of the wild dark forest. All sorts of creatures bustled about in peaceful coexistence as she was swept up into the disorderly activity when Vegeta plunged onward like a horse nearing the barn. He seemed so relived to almost be rid of her, but Bulma was too wide eyed to take much notice of him.

There was too much going on around them. Bulma had never seen so much life! All sorts of businesses in little hand made wooden or sod structures with inelegantly painted signs were lined along the narrow streets in every open space. They were isolated here so all the creatures thought nothing of the ideas of the outside world, all they knew was that they needed each other to survive in this remote location and that was good enough for them. It was wonderful.

There was a crash and she tuned her head quickly to see a fight breaking out to her left. It was a rough hard place she realized, and she found herself unconsciously pulling herself closer to the man who seemed to fit this element like a glove. He unconsciously pulled her closer, the instinct to protect stronger then his irritation.

Still, everyone seemed happy here Bulma thought. They lived a very rich life, a natural, simple, uncomplicated life. They were free and content, and they needed no money for that. They had an understanding and peace with life that Bulma found herself envious of. It seemed curses didn't find their way here.

"At last!" Vegeta sighed with triumphant relief and Bulma looked up to see a deep purple tent in front of them with torches burning on either side of a wooden sign that read in deep curling letters 'Galatea : Healer and Prophetess.' This structure seemed more elegant then the others, so Bulma figured this woman was one of respect.

They entered and the smell of jasmine, sage, and other indefinable fragrances mixed into the air that swelled around them. Bulma felt instantly calmed. When her eyes adjusted to the low lighting of the tall candles she noticed many strange talismans adorned the crowded room. There was a small table in the corner where many parchments and ancient looking books lay, one open as if begging for eyes to read and learn its hidden secrets.

Just as Bulma was beginning to wonder where this Galatea was a woman appeared beside them. She must have come from an adjoining tent, the folds of the entrance making it invisible, but it was still a shock to Bulma who gave out a startled cry. She was dressed in flowing robes of different material, all shades of purple, and they billowed out around her gracefully, giving the illusion she was floating. There were strange symbols sewn into the fabric that Bulma did not recognize and she carried a staff with a dark shining globe atop it surrounded by spikes. Her dark hair was flowing over her shoulders, tied back in a few places by charms and feathers.

She had an ethereal grace and wisdom about her that demanded awe and respect. She appeared old and young at the same time, ageless. All Bulma knew was that this woman was beautiful beyond compare. Not necessarily from her physical features which were dark and plain, maybe even to some ugly, but she was beautiful because of the aura that surrounded her that was strong and soft, it held deep knowledge and compassion. An ultimate warmth and peace radiated from her eyes. Bulma felt that if this woman wished she could extend her powers and appear to be anything she wished, she could make any eyes believe her to be the most glorious thing in the world.

"Well, if it isn't dear Vegeta, what a pleasant surprised, come in, come in, you look haggard, let me make you some tea, won't you?" her voice was deep and rich with a musical quality that made it the only thing you could pay attention to, drawing you in to an almost hypnotized state at its smoothness. It was the most non-threatening voice there had ever been.

"Let you? Nothing would honor me more my lovely Galatea, I only hope my intrusion does not impose upon you," Vegeta replied with a warmth and respect Bulma had not heard before, and she felt slightly jealous that she was not deemed deserving of that tone.

"Never young one, come, my day has been weary and I should much like to hear your voice. It brings a smile to see your face." She said with pleasant welcoming laughter in her eyes as she finally moved her gaze to Bulma who instantly felt she knew this woman, and that this woman knew more about her then anyone. Bulma was searching in those eyes, searching for anything that might let her understand and accept life a little more, for answers she knew were there hidden in the mysterious depths. She felt disappointed when they moved away to lead them into the adjoining room that appeared more comfortable and lived in, pillows of all sizes and colors piled about.

Bulma let out a deep breath she hadn't know she was holding. It was if she had seen something she shouldn't, and it was taken away from her before she could discover what it was.

They settled themselves on the pillows around the friendly fire that burned in the center of the room. Galatea smiled warmly at them and prepared the tea as she spoke, putting various herbs from small bags that hung from her wait in the folds of her robe into the boiling water. The tea was delicious and exotic and it soothed Bulma greatly as its warmth flowed through her.

"It seems you have some precious cargo today Vegeta. Who is your friend and why is she in such a state? Surly you had nothing to do with it," she said in a voice that gave the impression she knew the answers to her own questions and was merely asking them out of amusement and seeing Vegeta in discomfort.

"No," Vegeta answered with a polite smile, "But then again, you didn't have to ask did you?"

"I suppose not, yet I cannot see everything, no one can. Even those with eyes on the backs of their heads have blind spots," she returned with a laughter sweeter then any sound.

"Well then I shall tell you again, you may be getting rusty in your old age," Vegeta continued teasingly, the tea seemed to have calmed him as well. Bulma was struck to silence, she didn't want to behave improperly in front of Galatea, and it was obvious Vegeta knew her fairly well. She did not know how, they seemed exact opposites, but they were on fairly friendly terms.

"Let me see," Galatea said when Vegeta had finished, "Yes I was worried about this. Unfortunately for this sort of healing I need the Folo flower, and I am fresh out. You know where they grown don't you Vegeta?"

"Oh I see, this is a plot to get me to do gathering for you! You don't mean to send me back out into that inferno do you?" he said, still amiable.

"That is exactly what I intend, I can make you a cooling solace if you like."

"Ok, ok, I will go, the sun surly can do any more damage to me then it already has, and they grow not far from here if I remember right, I should be back within an hour."

"Thank you dear, and I'm sure your Princess will be very thankful as well," she said with another beautiful laugh.

"Mine? I hardly think so, but it seems the wayward Princess has fallen into my temporary care, whether I would like it or not."

"The fates will have it so."

"What is that smile Galatea, is there something you are not telling me?"

"Of course not dear, but this meeting is in no way an unhappy one, now go, the sun is passed its zenith and Bulma has been in this state for long enough."

"You know my name?" Bulma finally spoke as Vegeta dutifully commenced his mission.

"There is not so much in a name, but what lies behind it, that is not so easy to perceive. You have been awfully quiet, you need not fear me. Speak freely my child for I will not reprimand you."

With just that Bulma wanted to pour out her heart and soul to her. All the things she had kept locked away inside bubbled to the surface and she wanted to lay it all out before her so that Galatea could pick out all the bad things and they wouldn't exist anymore.

But she stayed herself. That would be unfair to Galatea who seemed to have bountiful kindness. Another part of her was embarrassed to show her corrupted soul to one so pure.

"I am sorry, I am just weary from all of today's...events. I would like to thank you deeply though, and I am sure my parents will provide you with a substantial sum for your services."

"No need," she said with a wave of a hand as if money were a pesky insect, "I have all I want, but you my child, you have a sadness in your eyes I do not see often. Do not be so hard on yourself Bulma, there is none so good that he has no fault, none so wicked that he is not worth naught."

How could this woman comfort her so with such simple words? Was it the tea? No, this woman was as near to a Goddess as a mortal could be, if only Bulma could grasp even a tiny fragment of her wisdom maybe she wouldn't be so lost.

"Vegeta looks upon you like I have seen him look upon no other. He has not had the most blessed life, the poor dear."

"How do you know him?" Bulma asked eager to know more.

"I have helped him since he was a boy, and healed what wounds I could. He is an old spirit, and a strong one thank goodness. What do you think of Might?"

"Well, he thinks it is the only thing to count on, the only thing which rules this world. Might is there in human nature, you can't cut it out, but maybe you can direct it, so that it is useful instead of bad," Bulma said slowly earning an approving smile from Galatea.

"Yes, I believe he wishes to do that, but can't find something worth fighting for."

Their conversation only increased Bulma's interest in the mysterious Elf. Why had he helped her? Why did he look upon her differently? At first he had been the murderous black ghost of Wilderland, and now? Now she didn't know what to think… Oh it was no use! Nothing could come of it anyway, it only gave her a headache and she did not want pain after her brief escape from its clutches.

Again, as if she heard Bulma's thoughts, Galatea spoke.

"It is much easier to accept failure and be comfortable with it then it is to keep going. People blame destiny, fate, or luck and settle into mediocrity. They lose all the fire in their spirits and smolder in some dark small place drowning their ambitions, hopes, and dreams," she gave Bulma a small smile before she continued.

"I'd like to tell you a story. Two travelers come to a poor couple's house and the couple gave them all the hospitality they could offer, even giving up their own bed so the travelers would be more comfortable. In the morning the poor couple's cow died.

"The next day the travelers came to a rich mans house and he treated them coldly and made them sleep in the barn, barely giving them anything, yet one of the travelers offered to fix his wall for him. The other could not understand this so the first explained. The poor man's wife was destined to die that night, but because of their kindness the gods took the cow instead of the wife. In the rich man's broken wall treasure was hidden and if he had fixed it himself he would have found it."

"You see Bulma, not all is as it seems, you can't get hung up on the surface, the truth lies beneath. What may appear to be good or bad may not be so. Sometime we won't understand but we must not ask why only trust that it will work out in the end. We must always strive to be kindly regardless, for we never know when it could change our destiny."

AN: Not much happened in that chapter, but a lot was said. Hope it wasn't too boring but there is some stuff to think about. Thanks for reading, Please review


	10. Chapter 9

Stolen Hearts Chapter Nine

Stolen Hearts Chapter Nine

"Damnit, I know that cave was around here somewhere!" Vegeta said with rising frustration. The Folo flower grew in caves in the western hills, but for some reason they all seemed to have migrated to some other secret location just to impede his mission. He was ready to say the hell with this whole ordeal and just go home and forget about everything when he saw a suspicious looking thatch of vines over a rocky outcropping.

"Hmmmm," he mused putting a finger to his lips and arching an eyebrow, "This could be the pot 'o gold," but then quickly silenced realizing he was talking stupidly and to himself.

'The sun must really be getting to me,' he thought as he walked briskly over to the vines and tore them violently away.

"AH HA! Take that!" He said to the air being quite pleased when a small entrance to a cave and was reveled. He was too pleased to have finally found the place he was vainly searching for to suppress the urge to talk to himself again in congratulations.

The cave opened up once inside, allowing ample room to move around standing upright. Vegeta could see well enough in the low light filtering through the opening thanks to his exceptional Elvish eyesight.

The walls and much of the floor was covered with large fuchsia flowers, their deep purple vines twining everywhere. He strode proudly over to a clump of Folos on a shelf of the cave and began to gather handful of the soft petals when suddenly one of the flowers opened its eyes.

"Ghaaa!"

Vegeta let out a depressingly girlish scream as he levitated backwards like a cat. Shrill delighted laughter filled the air as a body slowly appeared among the flowers lounging languorously upside down on the outcropping. Vegeta placed a hand over his chest to calm his rapidly beating heart.

"Awww Veggie, did I scare ya? You remember your little Folora don't you?"

"Yes damn it! Why do you always insist on giving me such a fright? Shit," he cursed embarrassed and looking away feigning hurt.

Folora was an unfortunately flirtatious nymph of the Folo flowers. Nymphs assume the appearance of the life they are associated with, usually a plant or flower of some sort, thus Folora had the same coloring as the flowers around her giving her the ability to blend in impeccably in her element. Nymphs are creatures that inhabit the most secluded and peaceful areas of the world, like close to a pure water source or a glade of flowers.

Nymphs are a peaceful race they hate evil and ugliness and try to avoid conflict. When the situation is desperate a nymph will defend themselves by using their abilities to blind or confuse there attacker using their magical powers. They are nature's embodiment of physical beauty and are ever young, charming, graceful, and intelligent.

At times.

Vegeta had encountered this Nymph on various occasions while collecting or wandering aimlessly and it seemed she had formed an affectionate affiliation for this Elf, what we might call a 'crush'. She would lounge over his shoulders while he tried to escape her vines and continue his business without much success. She was always especially languid, perhaps because that was what a flower seemed to be like, and a Nymph was the closest personification of one...but Vegeta had never met another Nymph (usually they sought seclusion) and he was never one to understand flowers.

"Oh don't be cantankerous you toad," she crooned in her unusually high voice, and began pawing at him letting out short bursts of giggles at his distress.

"Not today Folora, I'm in a hurry. Toad? You Nymphs come up with the most ridiculous things," he said curtly, brushing her off and hurrying to finish.

"Veggie is too busy for his little Folora?"

"Obviously yes, and don't call me 'Veggie' and you are not my 'little Folora' and I don't want you to be, got it?"

The sun had done wonders to increase his patience. She put on an offended look and withdrew pouting, watching him with angry eyes. Nymphs don't take well to rejection and are jealous and vengeful creatures.

"You can take as many as you want, but I get a kiss first."

"I can take as many as I want anyway."

"Nymphs aren't completely helpless you know, we have our ways. I could blind you if I wished," she said with an edge of threat to her normally playful tone.

"You wouldn't," Vegeta said eyeing her skeptically, surprised at her boldness.

"I would, I get what I want, Veggie-eta."

He paused having collected all her needed and wondering if her should believe Folora's claim. It did seem wrong to just take what must belong to her intimately without anything in return, and he had heard to beware to wrath of a Nymph, the dangerously fickle unforgiving creatures.

She closed her eyes confidently awaiting her payment, and Vegeta was ready to give it to her. What was the big deal anyway? It was just a kiss, he had in fact given her kisses before, but something made him stop. He couldn't do it today; something inside him wouldn't allow it.

"No Folora, go find a tree to kiss you, for I won't," he said turning away abruptly and closing his eyes, mentally crossing his fingers hoping to make it out with his eyesight intact.

"Bastard!" she screeched losing all good humor and taking on a darkness," It's her isn't it! You dare turn your back on me for that bitch of a Faerie? Don't you see she'll be the ruin of you Vegeta! Don't you see the malice in her face? You should not challenge fate, for you cannot change anything, it is already set in stone. It is too late; all it can end in is failure! You cannot stop it! If you try you will only be smote down by the wrath of darkness!"

Vegeta couldn't help pausing. What the hell was that cryptic ranting about? This wasn't Folora at all, sure she could get snappy, but now she had a dark tone that was completely unlike her. And how could she know about Bulma?

The whole thing gave him the chills and left a sick feeling in the pit of his heart. He stayed silent and hurried on, frightened to see the owner of that morbid voice, even though he knew it was foolishness. Folora's enraged yet forewarning call followed him.

"Don't you leave, don't you go back to that damnable wench. She is the ruin of us all! She can't love you, no one can love you! You deserve this devastation you bring upon yourself you wretch! Curses!"

That was the last strangled cry Vegeta heard as he stepped outside visibly relaxing in his escape. Was it just an optical illusion or were the wall of that cave getting closer?

He never though he'd be glad to see that burning orb again but he was, and the only affliction to his sight was being dazzled by its sudden brightness.

He hurried back towards town, trying to forget Folora's upsetting words.

AN: Sorry that took me awhile and it's kinda shorter but things have been hectic. Thanks again as always for reading


	11. Chapter 10

Stolen Hearts Chapter Ten

Stolen Hearts Chapter Ten

Approximately an hour later Vegeta returned looking rather flustered, but with a smile still to give.

'A smile for Galatea', Bulma though bitterly. She was surprised at it and quickly reprimanded herself. Galatea had wrought more smiles from her in the past hour then one had in her entire existence. It was simply something her presence demanded.

Bulma was in fact beginning to think she was going mad, first Vegeta now this prophetess who seemed to see into her soul. Was her face just having spasms? This was all very unnerving indeed.

She took a deep breath and a gulp of her tea, unfortunately at the same time so she ended up spluttering like a fountain and feeling very much like a fool.

"Oh dear, are you in that much of a hurry to have the healing potion? It will be ready in a few moments child, patience," Galatea said with a knowing smile.

Vegeta simply gazed at her with amused eyes, and she felt her face warm under his eyes. 'He must think I'm pathetic, this whole venture was only out of pity, look how glum he seems since he came back from that chore on my behalf. What a whiny child I am indeed,' she groaned inwardly. She scolded her weak mental state and immediately decided to harden herself. Since when did she care what others thought? No more prissy princess, she'd show them. She'd show them all.

"I'm going to find some food. Its almost evening and I haven't had anything all day and I'm starving," Vegeta stated with the accompanied agreement of his loud growling stomach that even made Bulma let out a small laugh.

"Child, you have a beautiful laugh, though it is weak from disuse. Don't you dare let it disappear entirely," Galatea said with warmness, "Go dear Vegeta, and don't forget to bring us back something now."

"I'm sure it will be quite a surprise for the Princess, for she has never had any of our kind of food," he replied mischievously.

"Oh no, I don't like the sound of that," Bulma said with a frown, pictures of large writhing worms came unpleasantly to mind.

"Don't mind him Bulma, that's just his way. You must pardon his rashness sometimes," Galatea said and Vegeta exited the tent with a wave and a roll of his eyes, "Here, drink this and be well."

Bulma did as she was directed and instantly felt relief and warmth as the liquid ran through her. She could feel it in her veins and watched in awe as her cuts and bruises disappeared along with the pain, leaving only a tingling sensation.

"This is true magic," Bulma gaped running her hands along her skin, "You are the greatest healer I have ever seen! I would be a fool to call myself a magic user in front of you."

"No child, you give me too much credit," Galatea answered waving it off, "It is simply the lore of Mother Nature, She gives us all we will ever need, it is simply whether we have a mind to see it or not, I'd like to call it ordinary miracles. If you want to see real magic watch this," she said as she outstretched her hand mumbling something and Bulma outfit was repaired without one single rip left. Galatea laughed at Bulma's wide eyes.

"Go outside child, youth like you should never be inside for so long. Test your new bone, the fresh air is a wonderful healer as well."

Bulma nodded and professed her thanks once again before she was shooed out into the light of the dying day.

She felt awkward and extremely out of place as she watched the people hurry by, too busy with their own tasks to take much notice of her. She was worried to step out into the flurry, yet she was fascinated by it. She stood observing the different creatures and listened to pieces of conversations, trying to guess what their life might be like.

There was a large she-wolf arguing with a tiny gnome, making an amusing scene. The wolf could have swallowed the gnome whole, but she simply gnashed her teeth as the gnome hurried to finish making something.

'I bet he is making her lovely winter sweaters for her wolf pups who love playing in the snow but always catch a frightful cold. The gnome loves working with his hands and creating something new, and has enough pride in his work to even stand a giant wolf down,' Bulma mused.

She watched intently and saw the gnome attach a device to the wolf's ear. It seems as though her hearing wasn't what it used to be and the gnome was making her a hearing aide. They weren't fighting at all, they simply had to talk loudly to be understood.

"It seems I was quite off," Bulma said to herself with a smile.

"What is a lovely young thing like you doing out here by yourself?" a voice inquired.

Bulma turned to see an impossibly old gnarled Fey man grinning at her through thick glasses.

"I know I'm not quite the stud I used to be, but I reckon I still can show a gal a good ole time," he said giving her a smile that sported a few missing teeth. Bulma couldn't help but laugh at his ridiculous proposition.

"I'm sure you could kind sir."

"Heh, you know I'm a celebrity? Yup, sure am. I helped found this town here, yes I did. Worked like there was no tomorer."

"And how do you like the tomorrow now that it has come?" Bulma said with a smile but the old man was interrupted before he could answer.

"Galar are you putting the moves on my girl again you slick cat?" Vegeta's voice cut in.

"Ooooh, I see. _Your_ girl Vegeta? Swear I hadn't a clue."

"You can say that again, now hurry along, or you will miss your gambling with the other 'founders'," Vegeta said with a laugh.

"Young whipper-snappers don't show respect no more," Galar mumbled good- naturedly as he shambled off.

"Your girl, huh?" Bulma questioned with a raised eyebrow in threat.

"Well that was just the quickest way to get him to leave, I figured," he answered unconvincingly with a forced cough and a smirk as he handed her some unintelligible meat product in an attempt to change the subject.

"It's Centicore. They have been getting out of control lately, so the meat is cheap, but it's good."

Bulma's lip arched in disgust and skepticism, "I don't believe you. You eat it first."

"Fine!" he said and took a large handful and crammed in unceremoniously into his mouth.

"Ugh, like I could trust you barbarian taste in the matter," she jested and took a small bite. It was spicy and warm and..delicious! But then again, hunger is the best spice.

"Seems someone isn't as picky as she sounds, or..proper," he said, trying to decide if her should be appalled or amused as she shoveled food into her mouth at a rate to challenge the most vulgar of men.

"Tastes just like chicken," she said through bites.

"Isn't that trite."

"You mean true."

"I wouldn't know."

They both laughed, for no particular reason, other then they could.

"You know if someone had told me yesterday that I'd be sitting here in some rustic town eating Centicore like it was the best thing in the world with a maraudering Elf, I would have called them mad then kicked them for saying such an offense."

"Well I guess things have a way of turning out different from what we expect."

"By the gods I hope so, because I do not expect anything good nor do I trust it."

"Maybe fate resents the fact that one would think they had it figured out."

"Perhaps.."

"I have something for you Princess," Vegeta said sheepishly as he pulled out the most gorgeous necklace that must have ever existed. The most gorgeous jewel that is, the jewel on the simple chain was ..breathtaking. It seemed to be some large diamond, but Bulma got the feeling it was far more precious. It seemed to almost shine with an inner light; it flickered and sparkled with different colors when you turned it. Light seemed changed when it reflected on its countless faceted surfaces, it seemed to take the light and change it into thousands of glints of rainbow.

"Oh heavens alight, its beautiful Vegeta. Where did you find such a remarkable treasure and why are you bestowing such an honor upon me? I should seem dull and ugly next to its radiance."

"I don't know what honor is in a jewel, but all I know is that I think that jewel was made in the heavens for you, for you are the only one who is as, if not more, resplendent then it and can keep its brilliance in check. And I do owe you a necklace for the one I um..borrowed, plus I have no use for such a thing. I came across it in my um..borrowing, and always kept if for some reason." He looked away in embarrassment, cursing his little emotional outburst, and wishing he didn't keep trying to ruin his life.

Bulma beamed with indeed rivaling beauty as he placed it around her elegant neck, regardless of how confused it made her feel because of who was bestowing it.

"A thousand thanks to you sir, I do not deserve such a gift, but I shall never take it off."

"Quite the contrary, and who said it was a gift? Don't go thinking I'm soft or anything, this is simply business," he said with a soft smile that made it seem he meant just the opposite.

What was that? What was that warm feeling inside her, this absence of sorrow? Was she happy in this moment? Was this happiness right here before her? It had been so long she felt like a confused traveler in a foreign land. It was amazing how they were back here again, even though she was so angry earlier. It was like they were meant to feel like this and their stubborn distrustful actions just kept getting in the way of what was natural.

The sun finished the last rays of its lingering goodbye and the moon rose in its awful majesty over the silver tree tops. Through the air drifted strains of remote and exotic music.

"Ah, the nightly festivities have begun. Would you like to attend dear Princess? I'm sure it will be quite the experience," Vegeta said in a non- committal voice, beautifully modulated, as he stared off indifferently towards the music.

Bulma mulled over his beauty in the paleness of the moon for a moment before answering truthfully.

"I've had so many new experiences today; I suppose it couldn't hurt to add one more to the list. I must test my new ankle anyway."

"Yes you must test your ankle," Vegeta agreed, hiding his smile at the well placed excuse and led the way through the dark.

AN:...fun stuff next chapter, see ya then, thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 11

Stolen Hearts Chapter Eleven

**Stolen Hearts Chapter Eleven **

Tonight is the night all the dragons

Awake in their lairs underground

To sing in cacophonous chorus

And fill the whole world with their sound.

They sing of their days of glory

The sing of their exploits of old

Of maidens and knight, and of fiery fights

And guarding vast catches of gold

Some of their voices are treble

And some of their voices are deep

But all of their voices are thunderous

And no one can get any sleep

I lie and I listen

Enchanted and filled with delight

To the songs I can hear only once a year

The dragons are singing tonight

This was but one of the many songs that could be heard in the distance as they walked. Soon they reached a clearing where all the excitement and music originated, and there were many torches burning in a large circle to illuminate the area of dance.

Never had Bulma seen people dancing with such vigor and expression, the music was in their souls and they flew around in the freedom of the cool night air. The ritualistic festival at night might have been a nightmare to many she knew back at home, but to these people it was heavenly, and soon Bulma found herself filled with the exhilaration of the night, and she felt bodiless, vibrant, transported. The passion of the nocturnal secrecy was in her blood as she became lost in the lively beat, the pulse of life.

She could sense Vegeta's movements acutely, but at the same time he was blurred, but she always knew exactly how to react so they moved as one, they were elegant flames dancing wild and free with an uncontrollable passion and a strange hypnotic beauty that drew many pairs of eyes. Her blood was pounding as her body spun round in sweet abandon. She had never felt so alive, so perfectly connected, and she could have sworn the stars in their lonely sky were dancing with them, dancing in his eyes, moving with every transcendent step he took.

They danced long into the night hardly speaking a word, letting the rhythm speak for them, until they could dance no more and headed slowly off to find sleep away from the enchanting confusion of the festival that was still going on strong.

Vegeta had informed her that he had arranged a place to stay, since he did not want to burden Galatea any more. Whatever animosity Bulma had felt towards him had slipped into the far recesses of her memory, it seemed preposterous to hate him juts because he was an Elf. Was she really any better then an Elf anyway? How could she possibly assume that? She could see that now, and whatever trespasses she may have though he had done to her were assuredly made up for by what he had done _for_ her.

They arrived shortly at a field of domed tents, and entered in the one numbered 214. There were two beds inside and a small space between.

"This is like the hotel of this town, I'm sure there are some coarse people about, but you needn't worry with me about," he said puffing his chest out a bit.

"I'm sure you are the most uncouth of the lot, so if I can handle you I can handle anything," she jested, "Would you like to here a song of my people?"

"I suppose."

She cleared her throat and began in a soft melodious voice, "Stars, in your multitudes

Scarce to be counted

Filling the darkness

With order and light

You are the sentinels

Silent and sure

Keeping watch in the night

You know your place in the sky

You hold your course and your aim

And each in your season

Returns and returns

And is always the same

And if you fall

You fall in flame!

And that's all I can remember, the Fey don't have many festivals, at least with such music and dancing as this one had."

"Well I can be poetic too you know," Vegeta said smiling, "Even though I'm sure I have been to even less festivities then you...lets see...ah hem..um A day without sunshine is like... night."

Bulma laughed, loud and unrestrained. She didn't feel embarrassed this time.

'What an incredible day, I might almost be fooled into thinking my luck has changed, but I'm no fool. Too bad there isn't only one bed though,' she thought with a wicked grin and the immorality of her though, but then quickly locked it away remembering her previous rejection with a pained frown. Why did he have to beguile her so? The gods know she should be anything but consumed by this licentious Elf, but… she could not still her traitorous heart.

She had thought an Elf would be easily hateable loathsome creatures from her past experiences, but Vegeta was anything but. He made her want to hope. She almost let herself think that she could spend forever just trying to figure out who he was, an interest never extracted from her. She normally rarely even cared what people's names were.

"Vegeta, deadly beautiful Vegeta."

Her eyes widened as she realized she had just said that out loud, and she turned an impossible deep shade of crimson as the object of her conflicted thought raised a questioning eyebrow, or mocking more likely Bulma cursed. He said no hurtful words though; he simply stood in silence looking at the floor. Perhaps he was as confused as she? He did not think himself beautiful in the slightest.

"Sit with me," she said simply, and he looked at her with his unreadable expression, and then sat, unable to disobey.

"I'd...like to thank you for all you have done. I know you didn't have to and you were probably going against your best interest, but I'd like you to know how much it means to me that you did. My opinion on Elves is much higher now," Bulma mumbled quickly, not knowing what to say, wanting everything to come out insightful, brave, and charming but failing horribly.

"I don't think you should let your opinion on Elves change, no doubt it is highly accurate for the large majority of them...you may if you feel so inclined to let your opinion on me change, but I can assure you you're first impression is correct."

"Yes, I've heard many stories of you; if you are indeed the dark elf, of Black Ghost as they say, but, I see myself that there is much the stories don't say. You wouldn't have saved me if you were as cold as you would like to pretend."

"I have not been myself these days," his eyes flashed with affront.

"I'm sorry, I meant no offense. Maybe you have not been yourself before, and are just now finding yourself."

That wrought silence from her counterpart and they sat like that for a long moment, both lost in their own turbulent thoughts, too private to speak aloud. At last Vegeta sighed and looked at her.

"I try and I try, but I still cannot find a rational reason for why I saved you, for why I've done all of this."

"Rationality never did anything for me."

He gave her another meek smile that was more in his eyes then his lips and traced the contours of her face ever so lightly.

"What's this?" he questioned indicating a scar where her temple and hairline met, obstructing the perfection of her features.

"Oh, that? Um well..when I was young I used to walk the long way through the forest to get to school. One day on the way home I say a Moundky (a winged monkey) sitting in a tree. I didn't like the way it was staring at me so I picked up a stone and threw it at the Moundky but it shifted out of the way just in time. So, this went on for three days. I passed the Moundky, felt I did not like it's staring, threw a stone at it, and it shifted before being struck.

"Finally when I threw the stone, the Moundky caught it and threw it back. The stone struck me and the blood poured out as if I were not a human but a goblet with no bottom to it. Everybody though it was not going to ever stop until I died, but I suppose they were wrong."

At this Vegeta laughed, so loud and sudden that it startled Bulma. It was the first real laugh she had heard from him, and it had a beauty that could rival Galatea's.

"I guess the Moundky was smarter then you. Didn't think to dodge it eh?" he said through outbursts.

"I didn't think the damn think could catch!" she snapped, his beauty dropping a bit, but couldn't help breaking out into laughter herself as his continued, and of course that made him laugh more, and so on, the way laughter fits usually go.

Slowly their laughter died down an ended again in silence, but a far more secure one.

"Not quite a battle scar I would say," Vegeta said with a smirk.

"Yes, yea I'm sure your scars are _much_ better then mine, and have much better stories."

"No I don't think any scar story could possibly top that one," he said as Bulma became caught in his dark gaze again, and she reveled in its beauty. Those eyes surrounded in a pensive shade, circled by this sad but beautiful darkness were so sorrowful, lonely, and nobly tragic.

Then slowly, as if he were afraid of being seen, he leaned forward and kissed her neck up to her ear. He took the lobe of one ear into his mouth, and she leaned against him and sighed and shuddered at the same time.

They both stayed there as if stuck together until he tasted his way along Bulma's jaw to her mouth with feather light kisses that warmed her soul. He only kissed the corner of her mouth, enticingly close, as if asking permission and apologizing at the same time.

He flicked his tongue over her lips and she welcomed him willingly, no longer wanting any teasing. Warm lips brushed together as tongues shyly met. She let her tongue play, tasting, touching, letting it twine against the other. He sucked at her full bottom lip, and then nibbled gently at it before resuming the moist and profane kiss.

It must have been only minutes but it felt like sweet infinity to Bulma, who was completely absorbed and lost in this embrace that was more passionate and personal then any touch she had ever had, and it was intensely beautiful in its simplicity. It was a kiss, a real kiss, not a means to begin sex, but a pure kiss. She didn't have to worry or think of any other thing except the lips gently moving against hers in perfect contented harmony.

He slowly pulled away, and Bulma's heart flew into apprehension. Was he going to reject her again? But then she saw his eyes lidded with pleasure, and knew it was foolish to worry. Whatever had ailed him before and caused him to withdraw had dissipated.

"Sleep Bulma, you have had a long day."

"I don't think I can sleep without you beside me, if I may be so bold. Please stay, you don't have to do anything, I just need..your warmth on this cold night."

"As you wish," Vegeta conceded with a quiet smile and was readily pulled down into her awaiting arms.

Bulma molded herself to him, not wanting any space to separate her from this strange newfound warmth, and quickly fell asleep for it had indeed been a long strenuous day.

Hours of sweet natural sleep followed, without pain, without tension, without drugs. Such a rest neither had experienced in a long time.

AN: Alright, looks like we got a little something something going on. But what will they do about it in the light of day? Will everything seem the same? Thanks for reading, oh and the stars thing is from les misrables


	13. Chapter 12

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twelve

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twelve

Bulma awoke being shaken roughly. She slowly fluttered her eyes open with a groan of protest to see Vegeta standing over her with an expression of confusion and anger.

"This isn't the palace dear Princess, no one is going to wait on you here. I told you to get up an hour ago, and you said ok, but here you are still zonked out?!" he spluttered both enraged and shocked at the fact that some would cross him, lying blatantly to his face even!

"I said ok?" Bulma said slowly processing his words, still half captured in sleep's clutches and trying to get her brain to function properly, "I don't remember saying that, and I obviously didn't mean it if I did...where am I? ……..Oh yeaaaa," she mumbled, finally becoming fully conscious and aware.

"Oh yea?" Vegeta snapped with no humor, "So get your lazy ass up, you have work to do. By the gods you are so perfect at acting like a...a Princess!" he finished disgusted and tramped out intending to come back much sooner to make sure she 'remembered' to get up this time.

"I AM a Princess you mongrel!" she shouted after his retreating form, very perturbed that her lovely rest had been disrupted, "To hell with all the pleasantries in the light of day I guess, sheesh."

She had half a mind to go back to sleep out of defiance, but figured there would be no more 'warnings' and pain would be her next wake-up call. You never could trust these wild folk to be civil, manners were absolutely beyond them.

And what was this about work? Maybe he would force her to work in the mines or something as a slave and never had the intention of taking her back at all. That seemed possible, but not probable. She wouldn't be much help at manual labor anyway. Maybe he was going to ransom her?

"Eeep," Bulma gasped at the thought and the fluttering of the doorway as someone entered.

"Damn it woman are you up yet?...Oh.."

Bulma slowly registered that she was half naked and let out an unearthly screech as she quickly fumbled to cover herself and look for something to throw at her perpetrator.

"Shit," Vegeta said, if possible more flustered then Bulma, whirling around to face the other direction, "I didn't..I wasn't.."

BANG!

Vegeta grasped his head as pain shot through it when something extremely hard came in contact with it. The angry princess had finally composed herself and found a convenient pan that she could hit her intruder with.

'Why the hell was there a pan in here?!' Vegeta thought in pain, fully prepared to rip her head off and cook it in the same pan she had dared attack him with.

"You crazy wench! I didn't mean anything by it I just wanted to make sure you were up this time!" her roared in fury.

"Just..Get...Out," Bulma howled, winning the volume match by quite a few decibels and Vegeta retreated, more to get away from that awful sound then to obey her.

'Maybe I should just burn the tent down and be done with it,' he thought crossly not enjoying this awkward position one bit, but he had to admit, it wasn't the worst thing in the world to walk in on. A wicked smirk crossed his features and he suddenly didn't feel so angry anymore. Smoke always made him sneeze anyway.

A few long moments later a surprisingly composed and icy Princess emerged from the tent and stood glaring at him in detached silence. Vegeta simply retuned the cold indifference with ease and decided to continue as if nothing had happened, guilt was not something he easily felt.

"You will do some gathering for Galatea as payment, nothing is that elusive so you shouldn't have any problems," he said with pragmatism as he handed her a list. Bulma felt like snarling at it.

'Back to square one like at Grandma's,' she thought, feeling she could almost burn the paper with her detestation. She was immensely grateful for Galatea though, and she wanted to repay her for all she had done.

"Most creatures know better then to meddle with a Faerie so you should be safe. I don't want you going and getting killed after all this effort I have already wasted on you. I trust you know the plants?" Vegeta continued ignoring her flaring eyes.

She suddenly felt offended by his doubtful tone and she said haughtily, "Of Course I can! I am practically a Zeladonii, of course I can gather a few simple plants! And I'm only doing this because of GALATEA'S kind service; don't think you can force me to do anything, like I owe you something."

He just arched his eyebrows up in mocking pity like she was some pathetic child and shook his head, and without another word disappeared into the crowd.

Bulma gave one last angry 'hmph' as she turned in the opposite direction of that barbarous man and looked down at the list she hadn't bothered to examine until now. She felt slivers of embarrassment and dread creep in as she failed to directly recognize quite a few of the items on the list.

"Just like before you idiot, did you expect anything to change in one day?" she cursed herself but felt a dogged intent set in. She _would_ do this if it was the last thing she did, she would not ask for help, she would go into the forest and not come back until she had every last one of these plants, even if she had to wait for divine intervention. She still had some shred of pride left and she would not let that _Elf_ have a reason to laugh at her.

She would show him, she would show them all.

"Fuck me gently with a chainsaw!" Bulma yelled in frustration as she flopped to the ground after almost a whole day of scouring the sloping hillsides around this infernal place and her brain, but there was still one elusive flower that escaped her.

Most would have been excited and proud that they had found so many things that at first were unknown, but Bulma was only furious at the incompletion of the list, her failure. It was like a sports game, it doesn't matter if you lose by one point or a hundred, you still lost. One failure is much more remarkable then many successes.

With a growl she resolutely arose, refusing to give in, even with the scrapes multiplying on her newly healed legs. It mattered not, as long as she had her success. Maybe it would come to her if she saw the flower.

She came upon a curious overhanging of vines and she decided to investigate. Surprisingly the vines covered an entrance to a cave, and Bulma gasped as she saw the interior was lined with beautiful fuchsia flowers.

"Ah, maybe these are it! I certainly have never heard of them in my studies," she said to herself in excitement.

"These are what?" answered the flowers in a high angry voice.

"They are talking flowers? How curious," Bulma was shocked but figured it was one of her hallucinations and to just go along with it. Stranger things had happened.

"Um, hello flowers, could you tell me your name?" she said unsure of how to address flowers, especially if you were planning on picking it.

"My name is Folora, you simple-headed trout!" and out lolled the beautiful camouflaged Nymph.

Bulma gave a muffled 'baaa' like a sheep and nearly fell down.

"A Nymph, ah...haha, I thought the flowers were speaking," Bulma said putting a hand to her ear and looking around guiltily.

"Yah I noticed, I get that a lot. How come people always are scared when they see me? I guess they are afraid of my beauty. You are pretty dumb. But it's a good thing you aren't as dumb as you LOOK because then you'd be eating your foot or something terribly foolish."

Bulma simply looked at the Nymph with her head tilted as if she actually were a talking flower. She had though Nymphs were sweet-natured creatures and this one seemed quite the opposite. But the again, it is entirely possible that she fell asleep in class that day, and if that was the fact then there was no telling what this thing could do.

"Um, yeah...pardon my intrusion Folora, but maybe you could help me..."

"Help you? Ha! You think I would help you? Now I know you ARE as dumb as you look!" she said with her shill cutting laughter, "So," she said eerily cutting her laughter short, "You're her."

"I'm who?" Bulma said noting the crazed look in the Nymph's eyes that were locked on her in hatred. Bulma sighed. It looked like something else hated her. How original. But if this Nymph thought that she wasn't used to returning nasty banter with just as much potency, then she had another thing coming. It was like breathing to Bulma.

"You are the one he left me for..you must indeed be some kind of wicked enchantress for I see nothing but a silly ugly little Fey girl...why would he go to you?" Folora seethed, not even pretending to have a hint of a laugh anymore.

"Maybe you need to get out of this cave a little more, because you are talking crazy talk. I have no idea who you are or what you are talking about. All I want to do is find this damn Serillus Castalla flower, ok you crazy witch? Do you know of it or not?"

"Ha, of course I do," she replied her eyes sparkling with challenge, "I am not as stupid like you." She was seemingly distracted from her previous topic as she took up her piercing laugh again.

"Well will you tell me of it?"

"No fool, I don't help my enemy."

"That's just a pathetic excuse. You're just saying that because you are embarrassed that you don't know the flower…….and I don't even know you so how could I possibly be your enemy? So," Bulma taunted, "Who is the fool now?"

"Bah! Everyone knows that it is the proper name for the daisies that grow on the west side of the mountain here!" she said in a flustered angry defense before she realized she had fallen right into Bulma's trap. Bulma smiled, she knew this would happen because it is exactly what she would have done. They were not so different. Both frazzled and angry and prideful.

"No," shrieked Folora.

"Haha, you fell for it! Maybe you should spend less time calling others stupid and look in the mirror!" Bulma gloated in her triumph, fully prepared to exploit this situation. It didn't happen very often, usually she was on the other end, but that didn't bring one ounce of sympathy to her hard surface.

In the meantime Folora was chanting something too low for Bulma to hear, and when she did she was shocked to see a burst of light jumping at her. Thinking as quick as she could she shut her eyes and threw her arms out in front of her willing the light to stop.

It did.

Bulma had to blink a few times along with Folora before she actually believed what happened.

"Heh," Bulma let out a nervous puff, trying to act as if she has known that was going to happen. Has she really just repelled the Nymph's attack? She had never been able to do anything like that before….

"How did you do that?! Fie on you!" Folora fumed in resentment and shock, "No matter. Revenge would be wasteful on you. Fate will punish you enough. You are the curse of the world!"

Bulma's frown deepened as the words stabbed at her. The pain was only from her own belief that Folora's words were true. It is a fatal weakness, self- doubt.

Bulma turned back to look at the Nymph when she spoke again, and to her surprise she saw tears. The anger seemed gone from her for a moment, even the tone of her voice differed greatly, it was quiet and sweet, the way one imagined a Nymph's voice to be.

"Please, take care of him...be strong...be brave...promise me!"

"Yes, ok I promise," Bulma replied quickly, not knowing entirely what she was agreeing to. She was unnerved by this sudden change in the Nymph.

Folora disappeared back into the flowers and Bulma quickly made her exit. This was all too strange. Maybe all of the past few days had been one great fever induced dream. But Bulma knew better. This was the way her life went.

She found herself breaking into a run to collect the last flowers and return as quickly as possible, for the sun had already begun its descent.

AN: A lot of stuff which may seem confusing now will be explained later, I promise thanks to reviews thumbs up


	14. Chapter 13

Stolen Hearts Chapter Thirteen

Stolen Hearts Chapter Thirteen

Unsure of where to go, Bulma decided to try to find Galatea's tent which was easy enough with one inquiry of a passerby.

Galatea lavished thanks upon Bulma when she arrived, and Bulma blushed for she thought herself unworthy, even if she had somehow managed to complete the task assigned to her. But pride swelled in her chest and she let herself smile again. She did somehow complete the gathering after all.

'If only Grandmother could see me now,' Bulma thought wickedly.

Vegeta was already there and seemed to be in a better mood then this morning, but it was very possible that it was just because of Galatea's presence.

"Well I have to admit I am surprised. How many people did you have help you Princess? He said in a snooty tone.

"None! I told you, it was mere child's play for me." It was almost true, but she felt no remorse lying to him.

"Yes, I'm sure that's why it took you almost all day," he said with a knowing smirk that Bulma wanted to rip off.

"Well at least I do go peeping at people when they are changing!"

Vegeta turned crimson, whether from anger or from embarrassment Bulma could not tell.

"Come now, lets not quarrel," Galatea said with her soothing laughter, "You must away soon if you plan to get the Princess back by tonight. It is better to travel in the cool shade after the sun had gone to bed. Vegeta I expect you will show Princess Bulma the way in a civil manner, it shouldn't take you more then a few hours if you take the horses," she said as a side note to the sulking Elf, then caught Bulma in a warm hug and said, "Farewell, and may the heavens hold you."

"Thank you so much Galatea, all the stars shine brighter for you. I hope dearly that we will meet again."

"Then we shall. Now be off."

Bulma felt a sudden pull at her heart. She hadn't expected to be returning home so soon, and now she found that she didn't want her time here to end. Everything seemed to feel…… right here. She worried that all her bad feelings would come rushing back as soon as she was locked away in her old life again.

One good thing was that Vegeta only had one horse and Bulma had to ride behind him upon the steed. She relished his closeness whether she wanted to admit it to herself of not, and whether he liked it or not.

The memories of last night boiled up fresh in Bulma's mind as her body moved gently against his as the rode at a light pace. It was soft and hard in all the right places, and thoughts that made Bulma blush rose to the surface.

Had last night just been from the intoxication of the dancing, or had there actually been something there? Something worth fighting for?

They traveled most of the way in a tense silence. Vegeta seemed deep in thought. His scowl had returned as soon as they left Galatea, and he stared ahead not making any attempt to be overly chivalrous, not that Bulma expected it or even wanted it.

She felt words waiting behind her teeth, but didn't dare break the quiet that had descended upon them. Perhaps he was silent because he was pained by her presence. Perhaps this man was as barbaric as she had first thought.

Bulma shook her head as if trying to rid herself of something

But felt the wave of disappointed return at her time coming so abruptly to an end. Whatever it was, it had been a sweet escape for her life. She could almost pretend she was something different, but now it was back to the inevitable truth there could be no running from. Despite Galatea's warm words she didn't believe she would see any of this again, and it would fade away like the dream it seemed to be.

Vegeta. Her gaze drifted over to his beautiful visage and she knew he was the cause of this unrest within her. She couldn't decide if she should hate him or if she should grab him and repeat the events of last night. She couldn't tell whether she would be happy or sad to never see him again.

The fireflies swarmed around them in a fantastic dance casting a lovely glow to light their way.

She would be sad, Bulma decided. The twist in her stomach told her that, but she was overcome with the idea of how she could feel that way.

What was so special about him that fascinated her so? He was a loathsome Elf was he not? Somehow with him standing so near it was not so easy to make such a generalization. The world 'Elf' now had a face, and it was not one she could bring herself to easily hate as she was used to. She had been confronted with beauty before, but it had never moved her heart as he had. There was something else about him, something more. The mystery and pain in his eyes drew her in unheeding of logic.

Plus he wasn't the Elf who had killed her brother, right? All her hate should belong to that creature, not this vision in front of her who seemed harsh at first glace but possessed infinite softness. He had indeed saved her life.

A slightly exasperated huff escaped Bulma's lips. This was beginning to be too much for her weak heart, out of practice from years of not being used for anything but pain and hurt. Maybe it would all be ok when he was out of her sight. Out of sight out of mind….

'There wasn't could never be together anyway so why am I fretting so?' Bulma complained to herself.

Hate or no hate, they could never be together. That was simply inconceivable with the way the world was, regardless of the fact that she had made an exception in her detest for Elves. And she was fairly certain he had absolutely no interests in her, his rush to be rid of her as if she were the plague told her that.

With a sad realization Bulma realized Vegeta was no different from any of her other lovers. It was only herself who felt differently this time. He was just as distant as the best of them now that the mystery was gone, having only been blinded momentarily by her beauty and nothing else. He couldn't get away quick enough. Her glamour could never expect to hold one for long, especially someone as untamed as he.

'You don't want to hold him Bulma!' she told herself with more conviction then was in her heart.

"We are here."

Vegeta's soft restless voice jolted Bulma out of her thoughts with a start.

"Just over that hill should be the palace," he continued with no humor, "It is not wise for me to go any future, I do not belong here."

"Yes, you are right. I know the area, I will be fine on my own. You have done more then enough for me already..." Bulma mumbled as she slid into his arms dismounting the horse.

She lingered there not knowing what to do. What to say. Not wanting to let go of the warmth, the closeness, despite it all.

"Well...goodbye Vegeta," she managed finally, his name sounding strange on her tounge, "All my thanks go with you. 'Brethil elen sila aglar sir dae.' May the stars shine brightly for you...and if not, squint a little, that makes them sparklier."

That earned a slight smile from her counterpart, but his eyes were still distant and sad. Those beautiful eyes…… He had entered her soul despite her hard shell, and soon he would be gone. Could it be only a day since they met and her world was reborn?

'He probably can't wait to get away,' Bulma thought remorsefully, but angry at the same time for being weak enough to feel remorse at such a thing.

"And you Princess," Vegeta answered in the tone of one who had been traveling the world alone for years, "May the desires of your heart shine like starlight in your eyes."

With that he was gone, absorbed into the shadows like he never really existed at all. That's what Bulma would be telling herself tomorrow when she was still plagued with thoughts of the out of sight Elf. The cold crept back.

The vision of happiness infinitely remote seems a thin sustenance against the superior powers of despair.

AN: Shorter because I decided to break this up into two chapters. This was a better place to stop I think. Anyway, what is Bulma going to do about this and is she breaking a promise when she doesn't even know it? Is Vegeta actually angry at her or something else? Thanks for reading


	15. Chapter 14

Stolen Hearts Chapter Fourteen

Stolen Hearts Chapter Fourteen

Sometimes fate grabs you by the collar and shouts, 'Here is your golden opportunity, make the most of it!' And we respond, 'Now how can I really mess this one up?'

How clearly we defend ourselves against all that might do us good.

An angry scream tore through the air and a small explosion quickly followed.

"Bulma! If you cannot control your emotions then you need to go right now! You can NOT practice using your spirit energy when you do not have a harness on your emotions!" said a very irate and frazzled tutor with singed eye brows as a result of Bulma's outburst.

"Fine! I don't need this stupid lesson anyway," she yelled back defiantly stomping away. The teacher growled but did not attempt to stop her. There was true power behind her uncontrolled blast, and the Princess hadn't exactly come back from her Grandmothers all sunshine and daisies. In fact, he thought she might be even more frightful.

Bulma was surprised, however, at her parents reaction to her disappearance. When she had wandered back into the palace that night she found her mother in tears running to ensnare Bulma in a tight embrace. 'Oh Thank the Gods! I was so worried, my darling little girl,' was all her mother could sob, and her father came quickly to hug her as well while Bulma simply stood dumbfounded at their rare display of love.

Maybe they didn't really detest her, Bulma marveled. At least she wouldn't be banished to her Grandmother's anytime soon.

"Bulma!" a loud call brought Bulma back to earth.

"What!" she snapped with unnecessary volume, "Oh, hey Chi, sorry I've just been on kind of a short fuse lately."

"You mean shorter then normal?"

"Heh, yeah. Very funny."

"Yea, I've realized," Chi-chi said with a roll of her eyes, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Bulma regarded her bemused for a moment, but Chichi kept her face concerned and serious.

Bulma sighed, she knew exactly what was wrong. Vegeta. She couldn't stop thinking of Vegeta. He had infected her mind so much Bulma was beginning to think he was some sort of sorcerer who put a spell on her, but she knew Elf's weren't ones to practice magic.

Why must she always long for things that cannot be? Bulma was sure that was the only reason she was absorbed by him so. It was just one of those ridiculous ambitions that the wretched soul consoles itself with, for lack of decent fair. Fates joke was not amusing.

"Why regret what cannot be?" she said quietly more to herself then Chichi.

"Regret?" Chichi said slowly with an edge of confusion, as if she had never said the word before, much less thought of it, "Sometime you are so abnormal it's maddening!" she finished in exasperation.

"Maddening. How funny you should say that," Bulma said, anger filling the spaces between her words. Chichi got the feeling she didn't think it was funny at all.

"I'm sorry, it's just sometimes I don't get you at all."

"That's surprising," Bulma replied bitterly.

"Come on, it can't be that bad."

"It can and it is! I wouldn't expect you to understand. All that fills your head is fluffy pink clouds."

Hurt crossed Bulma's only friend's face and she felt proud. She had made Chichi feel hurt, something so terribly foreign to the fortunate girl. It was an empty feeling though.

"Don't act like the world is falling apart," Bulma sighed, feeling bad now, "I'm just a little upset at a...situation."

"Who is he?" Chichi said with a knowing smile already forgetting the offense.

Bulma gaped, was she that easy to read?

"Don't act so surprised!" she giggled, "Bulma, I can count on one hand how many times I have seen a smile on your face, yet since you returned from your Grandmothers I see you smile to yourself when you think no one is looking. Now I know your grandmother isn't a great facilitator of happiness so you must have met someone else. Am I correct?"

"Oh, you think your so cleaver don't you? Maybe I just found inner peace or something," she said snickering at the absurdity of that idea.

"No, I know that smile. I get it whenever I think of Goku. It's one you can't stop even if you tried, that you don't even know you have, but is intimately associated with even the idea of that person. Now who is he?"

"I...I can't say," Bulma said turning away embarrassed that she was even considering this.

"Of course you can! You have no speech impediment."

"Chi, it doesn't matter! Don't you have some schoolwork to go do or something so you can leave me in peace?"

"Of course it matters, nothing matters more. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't try to help?"

"A good one."

"Bulma if you would just tell me!"

"Why? Just forget about it ok?"

"No, I won't let you sabotage yourself."

"Sabotage myself?"

"Yes, you are afraid of being happy."

"I'm afraid of nothing."

"Everyone is afraid of something. Why else wouldn't you take this chance?"

"Because I can't!"

"WHY?"

"Because he is an ELF ok? Are you happy? A barbaric murderous Elf!"

By this time their voiced had risen to quite a considerable level which drew many questioning eyes. Chichi sat processing this outlandish information that had been given to her, eyes widening as she did so.

"Bulma no," she said as if the world indeed was falling apart.

"Yes, do you understand now?"

"How?" Chichi gasped still acting like a stricken child.

"Urg...He saved me from these Trolls and brought me home, and I don't know. Do you think I would be like this if I knew?"

Chichi, still entirely appalled at the idea of liking an Elf, raised a skeptical eyebrow like a prig and Bulma realized she would never understand. Her nature simply wouldn't allow it. Chichi simply shook her head pityingly and took Bulma's hand.

"This is awful. Why couldn't you fall for someone normal like everyone else?"

Bulma felt ill. "Haven't you realized I am anything but normal? Nothing in my life goes the right way. Even my own heart. I have no control over it. It must have some secret abort code, but only my own private demon knows it and refuses to relinquish or reveal."

"But Elves," Chichi shivered at the thought, "They are so evil."

Bulma felt her heart grow troubled. "I know," she said, "I know that he is evil, but his beauty unmakes me, every time I think of him looking at me, I die. How can such poison be so fair? But I am no angel either. I can't think myself better."

"Poor dear," Chichi said with the sympathy Bulma hated, "You are better. I'll just have to find you someone to forget that monstrous Elf."

"Yeah, you do that," Bulma said with a despondent sarcasm that Chichi missed entirely, trotting away intent on completing her mission.

If only she could forget...just forget it all. But she wasn't one to bend to societal conformity. Pride rose in her spine like some flag of defiance. She became indignant. Who were they to say what was right or wrong? Who were they to call Vegeta evil? They do not know him. She suddenly felt defensive of him and wished Chichi was back here for her to yell at.

In her life there had been no one like him anywhere, and Bulma knew, it was impossible to deny the fact, that if he had asked she would have been his. How odd, this feeling that her life had begun at last, this change. Can people really fall so quickly?

'What's the matter with you, Bulma? Have you been too much on your own? So many things were unclear and indefinite,' she thought to herself. There are times when she caught in the silence the sigh of a faraway song. And it sung of a world that she longed to see but it was out of reach, just a whisper away waiting for her.

'I have to find him!" she thought excitedly, but quickly calmed herself. This was ridiculous. He would certainly cast her aside laughing, and she couldn't take that. Not from him.

What a pathetic idea to think that he might want her. It was over, he was gone and she had never felt so alone. She was ok before, not great but she had come to grips with her life, and now...she was even more disoriented and all the trees were bare and the streets were full of strangers. Without her the world would go on turning, full of a happiness that she had never known.

No! She wouldn't let this man hold dominion over her! The match had been set to her heart, and she could either fuel it with bitterness and doubt or she could let it burn wild and free.

Bulma chose the latter; even if once she let that fire burn free no amount of tears could ever extinguish it. No one was spared when you play with matches, but it was a chance she had to take, for she had lived too long in fear. She would walk through the fire, and try to escape the torments fate had devised for her.

But how? How could she possibly drag her already tortured soul trough that? Could she trust herself with him enough? Would she survive it if he threw her attempt back in her face? Did she really feel enough for this man she had known for barely two days to take this sort of risk?

Realization crept over her and sank home with a frightening rush.

Yes.

She felt her heart swell with courage. For the first time in her life everything was palpable, she could finally feel, and if he was the cause of it then anything was worth a try. She wouldn't be such a coward to let this chance slip away and live forever wondering if things could have been different. She would not let herself down like that. She no longer even thought of the fact he was of Elvish decent, for it mattered to her naught.

It was like Chichi said; the mere memory of him caused a smile to grace her features. The memory of his smile, his lips, his kiss…….. These smiles were too rare to ignore. There were new feelings bubbling inside her which she did not understand, but needed to discover.

She would not look greatness in the face and miss it completely. This was her only chance; finally listening to her distant heart she realized that now.

The stars were within reach and she would rise to claim them! Tonight. She didn't even know where to find him but she would search until she died, as foolish as it all seemed she was determined. People with an idea of love rarely are concerned with whether they are being foolish or not.

She swallowed up all fear and doubt for the moment. She was not going to run away this time. This was her reason to survive, so fate had better be ready for a fight.

AN: Hmmmmm so, how will our Vegeta's reaction be? And will Bulma keep her new found conviction? Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy


	16. Chapter 15

Stolen Hearts Chapter Fifteen

Stolen Hearts Chapter Fifteen

Vegeta stood alone on the mountaintop. It seemed you could see everything from the outlook, but he couldn't find one thing to fill the void inside or quell his turmoil. He was trying to find a way to forget that damnable name. Bulma.

She made him think and feel things he did not wish to think and feel, and it angered him to a point of near madness.

Now the trouble with trying to make yourself stupider then you actually are is that you often succeed. He had convinced himself that what her felt was no more then a passing strangeness that was a side effect of being so isolated. Yes he longed for her but any warm blooded man would. The fact stood that she was the Fey Princess and anything to do with her would be utter and complete folly if nothing else. She should have only contempt for him and visa versa, right? That was they way things were.

'Then why didn't you just let the Trolls finish the job? Why didn't you just off her to begin with? Why did you put yourself through the turmoil of rescuing the bitch like some god damn knight in shinning armor? That's not you. You don't know how to feel. That part of you died a long time ago,' Vegeta told himself bitterly.

'What have you gotten yourself into Vegeta,' he sighed, wondering what he could steal, what treasure would make the sky turn blue again, so he could feel alive, or at least feel numb like he used to. She had torn his worn apart, and his mind was reeling from it.

How? She couldn't possibly be the answer could she? He had been stripped of everything except the flesh that bleeds; he had nothing to offer her. Her life was cold and dark and yet she was unafraid, he saw that in her eyes. She did not need him; he would only make things worse for her. That must be apparent to her and she probably had already resumed her life without wasting another though on the surly Elf that was pathetically consumed against his will. He was losing whatever grip he had...

Hope was falling away. Everything remained the same, yet nothing was the same. She had robbed him of whatever self-sustenance and foundation he had achieved over the years as easily as counting to three, and she probably didn't even know nor care. He had always been good at masking his feelings, burying them, but now…… He should be embarrassed at his weakness, and he was.

He was sorely disgraced at the fact that he could not stop the feeling, and it drew him into self loathing. His hardness was all he had, and now even that was gone.

Now he had silly feelings about how she had burst into his life like the music of angels, the light of the sun, and his life seemed to stop as if something was over and something had scarcely begun. And it was wrong in every way. He should not and would not care! He had gone this long without it and he could continue to do so!

It was easier said then done. No matter what detriment it had to his pride, he couldn't deny the feeling of being struck to the bone with breathless delight. He had never felt the way he did when he kissed her, and it was more addicting then the sweetest wine. The world was changed in just one burst of light, and what was right seemed wrong and what was wrong seemed right.

He felt his soul on fire! And now that she was gone he felt the loss of something indefinably precious, the loss of something he hadn't even known he'd valued until he had crushed it under his egotism.

And must he now begin to doubt, who never doubted all these years? His heart is stone and still it trembled, as the world he had known was lost in shadow. Was she from heaven or from hell? His brain ached with these unknown ideas as he returned to the dark in pursuit of relief and fugitive sleep, cursing his suddenly weak heart, that should be dead by now and giving him no more ailments.

Had he been pretending his whole life? He always thought he was cold, indifferent, and needed no one. Even when he was smiling it was clear he was angry at the world like a bomb ready to explode, but maybe it was just easier to be that way.

He had always known he was alone without anyone who cared if he lived or died, it was a horrible emptiness he couldn't escape. This is what made him able to battle with such fearsome abandon. Would the world remember him when he fell? Could it be his death would mean nothing at all? Was his life just one more lie?

These thoughts were pointless. All he could do was never sink so low as to let one tear fall. Never let them know the pain he suffered.

Why couldn't he hate her? Hate had never been abstract for him, but he realized his hatred had never been a reality, only a constant. He had little personal feeling against anybody and everybody. His attitude was more of malice at random, just a general anger all the time. It is dreadfully tiring to be angry and uncaring always.

At the beginning of this uncharacteristic feeling he had for her there had been restlessness, so that he had felt that if he only kept moving every moment there might be some hope of escape. Now his power to be busy was gone. He felt the frightful pang of hopeless love, and he was drained of effort. Even if he could accept his love there was no way in heaven or hell the Fey Princess would want anything to do with him. He was now only waiting to see if his heart would break or not.

He shuddered. Was it possible to feel so much and so little at the same time?

The forest was eerily quiet yet tranquil as night tightened its grip on the world. Unable to sleep Vegeta stood stoically looking upwards searching. When the day ends, the blazing sun relinquished the sky to the pinprick glimmerings of a multitude of cousins. Scattered like diamond chips about the cosmos, the stars looked deceptively serene to the earthbound observer. Each one was actually a creature of extraordinary violence hidden behind a beautiful appearance.

A soft sound caused Vegeta's eyes to slip downwards and his breath caught in his throat with a gasp.

In the glad below him Vegeta beheld the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It put the stars to shame.

She stood all the more beautiful in the pearly light, in a clearing in the forest, where there was a wide sword of moonlit grass and the white rays shone full upon the trunks at the opposite side. She was still and silent and ethereal among the majestic white trunks, the stars shinning bright with approval in the velvet sky. The jewel he had given her let off radiant effervescence that glittered upon her features perfectly. She seemed to glow, her long pale hair flowing out protectively about her with a glorious sheen in the starlight. All was moonlit, all was silver, too beautiful to describe.

He moved wordlessly towards her, like a moth to a flame, not thinking, not breathing, just drawn by some inexplicable pull.

Her head spun towards him as he emerged from the shadows, eyes wide with a mixture of emotion.

"Vegeta."

It was a whisper, a prayer, a declaration contained within one word that echoed in his troubled mind. Her voice trembled with joy and all his unrest seemed irrelevant. She looked at him and the dam of tears broke, she sobbed so hard her ribs ached. Vegeta instinctively went to her side and wrapped his arms around her trying to soothe something he didn't understand. Bulma was lost and found in the same instant. No words were spoken no judgments were passed as each wondered if they should stay. Did they dare?

Bulma stood pouring out her miserable heart in tears, and Vegeta's stoic eyes watched. He almost wished he was brave enough to do the same. It took more strength to cry and admit defeat.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he said in a rather breathless voice, "I saved your life, isn't that enough? Won't you let me be?"

"That's right," she said after a long pause, subduing her tears and taking her time as if every moment she was at war with herself to reach some crucial decision, "You saved my life and now you are responsible for it. You must have saved it for a reason. You must have seen something that no one else has. That I haven't seen. Something worth saving? I would have let myself die, but you didn't. You opened the door...just give me a chance, maybe you'll see it again. Maybe you've been scared by the pain, but I'm not like the others, I've been scarred too."

"I know," she continued in a breaking voice when he remained silent, his face wreathed in shadow making it impossible to determine his reaction to her request, "I know it's too much too expect, but its not too much to ask. I just...don't know how to stop feeling this way."

Silence again lingered in the air with a wild tension. Vegeta's heart raced from self control as he tried helplessly to subdue the feelings he thought they shouldn't have, that were never meant for people like them. Would you not feel anxious if you found a large pile of gold that appeared to be yours for the taking, would you not doubt?

They both took in sharp breaths, for luck.

The love was real but disguised, could it be possible? Was she really here in his arms crying to be his? Was this some strange hallucination from his lack of sleep? He felt her scorching heat against him and knew she was really there, as mind blowing as it was.

He couldn't deny that the way he felt about her made him long to be fair, that he could be what she needed, not just a hopeless distraction that would hurt her in the end.

She let out a long breath full of sadness, resignation, even dread. Her face was dejected, tormented, ill-looking. She looked at him in a pleading way, as if asking for an escape that she would never find. In her eyes there was a cry for help that he could not ignore, her young eyes were puzzled, saying: It is I, inside here, what have they done to me? Look at me! I am still here, in this prison. Help me out! Some distant part of her spirit was still alive and refused to submit.

And as their eyes finally met for the first time, in just that one look he knew that he was stuck. With one look he knew he had nothing to fear. He would do anything for her. He understood finding the place you were in an unbearable prison and the idea of something completely different is a haven. He was burned by the fever and scorched with desire.

'Heart, you bully, you punk, I'm wrecked,' he thought to himself, "I'm shocked stiff. And you? You still try to rule the world even though I have you, identified, locked in a cage where you will not leave alive, no matter how you hate it, or pound the walls. Brute, spy, I trusted you. Now you real and bawl in your cell, but I am deaf to you rages, your greed, your eloquent threats of worse things (knowing me) you could do. You scare me. I know I must let you out. We must reform, become one again and joy may come and make its test of us.'

The fist clenched around his heart wringing a gasp from his throat. When could he not love the pain of love? This had the strong clench of a mad man, this was gripping on the edge of unreason, but you could hear his hear breaking down, melting from it frozen prison. If this didn't matter then what did? It had never been easy, so why wish for it now? Was it worth the pain? Could he believe it was?

He plunged howling into the abyss.

Bulma thought she would go mad standing there so close to him, yet so far away. What kind of grave mistake had she made? How could she let herself trust a hope? She was a fool, how many times would she have to fall before she learned?

Just as she was about to flee in shame and despair, most likely to end up a meal for some ferocious nocturnal creature, he reached out and touched her cheek in the softest caress, as if to make sure she was real, and with just that simple movement she was more then satisfied.

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

There was hopeless hope mingling with pain that mirrored her own in the beautiful ebony eyes she was now allowed to see, sparkling like the night sky above. There was an edge of madness to them as well, but madness was needed if they were going to go through with this.

"Yes."

They were at a risk of more danger then they had ever faced before now that their hearts were open. One look, one word, was capable of shattering their souls for they were perched so precariously on the edge of a cliff. They were infinitely fragile when so exposed. They had not yet reached that plateau of safety and trust in each other, and had shrunk at the thought of what would become of them if they were wrong. If they failed.

Funny thing how it was not love or happiness or kindness in the others eyes that brought them so fervently together, but the pain and sadness they saw reflected. This was the grounds for their bond that entwined into a trustful abandon. There was no need to fear if the other feared the same. There was inevitability about their union that made it tempestuous and passionate for he could not deny her and she could never deny him.

They would be the glue that held the others soul together; for tears are harder to break then smiles. It might be a lost cause, but fate will unwind as it must.

Vegeta's reason, which he had not followed often anyway, left him completely, and without further thinking, only wanting to escape from this horrible, gnawing desire, he lowered himself slowly, closed his eyes and kissed Bulma's slightly opened lips with infinite tenderness. The feel of this touch shot through his body like a thousand butterflies and rendered his knees weak.

Not needing another word, they continued. Bodies pressed closely together, arms wrapped tightly, almost desperately, heads slanted instinctively to deepen the kiss. They kissed each other like they meant it. They knew that they meant it, and they soared through a world that was new, that was free, and it was more ecstasy to feel that passion returned then any could ever know.

Vegeta had never had so many thoughts and feelings flying through him at once, but above all of that he still felt the kiss burning on his lips and further within, where desire burned like an unholy flame. He lost himself in this feeling and the world around him blurred. Neither swam in the fog now, they reached out to grab hold of the sunlight and to be away in one rush, holding on to their heaven. There was a spring sweet rhythm dancing in Bulma's head and she slipped into her lover's hands.

"Kiss me, won't you kiss me again?" she murmured captivated, "I would sleep forever inside your mouth. I will wait for no one but you, spend this time with me, and share this smile. We have dreamed so much, and now it is here."

Bulma closed her eyes tightly as she surrendered to the delicious sensations that coursed through her body as Vegeta complied willingly, running his tongue over her lips before delving inside. Bulma moaned into their kiss and grabbed hold of him, pulling their bodies tightly together. They could feel the desire surging between them. She was drowning in a sea of tactile sensations. The fire that razed through her veins and her breathing quickened, lungs heaving, body quivering with need so intense that her eyes squeezed shut.

She had never felt so alive.

They gave themselves over to absolute pleasure, to swim the warm waters of the sins of the flesh, erotic nightmares beyond any measure, and sensual daydreams to cherish. They were wild and untamed things. Their hearts pumped and their blood sung. They had seen blue skies through the tears, and they realized they were safe at last.

Vegeta buried his face deeper into the fragrant dips and hollows behind Bulma's ear and down her jaw, never seeming to get enough of her. Hands roamed in slow, long strokes over heated skin, alternating between feather-light caresses and teasing fondles, exploring and exciting.

Bulma cried out softly and arched up, writhing and moaning, she noticed his hands on her breasts, first rubbing delicately, then hard, producing the most exciting feeling. As he continued his assault with his mouth, she thought ardently 'This must never stop.' Vegeta gazed down at her flushed visage, beguiled by the vision, savoring each strangled gasp. He was zealously bewitched.

Two bodies entwined in the inky darkness, slick and feverishly heated, wantonly writhing and arching, moving to a privately intimate carnal dance; where the beat and steps were determined not by the sensual strains of music, but by the flow and wash of sensations that coursed through them. Screams and cries rent the air as sweaty bodies moved in intimate harmony, perfectly matched, muscles flexing and shifting under glistening skin.

Bulma's world was narrowed down to the marvelous stimulations, and lava seemed to be blazing through her body. Blood thundered in her ears as the pressure within her increased in an ecstatic crescendo, her body writhing in a delectable tension never elicited before. She was so tantalizingly close... All coherent thoughts and any remaining doubt fled from her mind as she cried out.

Heartbeats and movements quickened as the dancers ascended the spiral stairs of hedonistic pleasure, bodies clenching and tightening in burning tension, vocal chords rippling with incoherent sobbing mews and cries that rose in intensity until both found the pure and utter bliss of release, contracting inexorably and stiffening with a howl.

They lay entwined, chests heaving in ragged breaths and limbs trembling ever so slightly. Soon, Bulma fell into a blissful slumber, breathing evenly, a sated purr resonating softly from her. Vegeta drew her lithe form to him, basking in the afterglow.

They lay under the stars of spring, no longer frosty and metallic, but glowing as if they had been newly washed and swollen with moisture. It was a lovely evening without a single cloud. The sky between the stars was of the fullest deepest velvet black. There was also the unfolding scent of benighted flowers and no less then five nightingales within earshot. It was too beautiful for him to sleep and he didn't want to wake to find her gone.

He looked up at the sky in a kind of trance. The stars seemed to be hovering as close as moths to his face, but at the same time they were so distant that the unutterable thoughts of space and eternity would baffle themselves in his sighing chest, and he would imagine himself to be falling upwards, higher and higher among them, never reaching, never ending, leaving and losing everything in the tranquil speed of space.

Soon he was asleep.

Another day, another destiny.

AN: So they got together indeed...but how can they stay that way, what does the future hold for these two, and how long will this new happiness last? Thanks for reading!


	17. Chapter 16

Stolen Hearts Chapter Sixteen

Stolen Hearts Chapter Sixteen

And so the affair began.

There was a feeling of bliss, the feeling of happiness, the feeling of a longing being fulfilled. All of this was wonderfully refreshing and new to them, and they gave little thought to the inevitable ephemeral nature of it. They were children at last, and they drank greedily from the honey they had always been denied, as if somewhere they knew they had to get as much of it as possible before they were found out, before fate caught up with them.

Until that time they remained the odd couple they were, and Bulma's days were spent contriving ways to be with Vegeta. The darkness must go down the river of night, and the sun will come streaming in, it seemed there was a light in the darkness of everybody's life, even hers. How surprised she was to be thrilled by the intensity of it, what an adventure this part of her life had become, and how much she looked forward to it, because she had not known that such pleasure could exist and, what was more, be avadible to her.

She had to be careful when she thought of him, for just that, a thought, would make her forget what she was doing. She just wanted to be around him all the time. She couldn't stop thinking about him when they are apart and had never felt anything so passionate. Small things he did could make her so deliriously happy. Just thinking of his hands and lips made her feel as if she were made up of an extravagant piece of silk. No man had ever done that for her, not even close. The color of the world was changing day by day. The world was about to dawn and the night would end at last.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Bulma began to look forward. It wasn't that she thought that each day would be filled with unlimited happiness and sunshine; she just had this wonderful feeling inside of her that wouldn't let her linger on much else. He filled her days with endless wonder. If someone had asked her she would have had to say, yes, life isn't so bad after all. Her heart was full of light, her heart was full of him, no fear, no regret. When she lost her way she closed her eyes and he had found her. In the darkness, the trees were full of starlight, and all she saw was him and her for ever and forever.

They lay languorously one day in the flowers, no longer detesting their beauty, and they kissed, hot tongues darting out to tangle almost playfully. She was always in a suspended state of being lost in is mouth or his eyes. There was magic in his ebony depths indeed. They could twinkle and make pains flee, the cold disappear, and sadness pop like bubbles.

"Bulma."

'It is like a song when he says my name,' she thought blissfully, 'It sounds more like poetry.'

"Bulma?"

There were times when everything was so beautiful, rose tinted her world and kept her safe from the trouble and pain. She was released; the bad times were behind her giving rise to her confidence. Reality was her in his arms because she would make it so, there would be no games. His lust was so sincere.

"Bulma! Are you having a seizure or something?"

"No, what?"

"Were you cursing me?"

"Don't be foolish, I would never."

"I beg to differ. I do believe there is a villain inside you waiting to be released. Have you ever been part of an old fashioned hold up?" Vegeta asked and his question was answered in her confused face, "I thought not, come, you shall see what great fun it is."

"You are mad!" Bulma cried in a merry tone as she was pulled to her feet.

"Ah indeed I am Princess, indeed I am."

And it was fun. More fun then Bulma could have possible imagined, and it was empowering in an addictive fashion. All her life pain had landed upon her, but she had never thought to try and cause pain to someone else. It was wonderful to fracture their perfect lives and see them cower in fear. They had probably never seen a day of rain in their entire lives and for that they must pay. So far as they were concerned, as yet, there was not such thing as a single particle of sorrow on the happy, sweet surface of the dew glittering world, and Bulma took delight in changing that for them.

She glanced over to meet Vegeta's approving eyes. He was glowing as she was. He was magnificent. His face had an older look, but it was his harsh life rather then the actual passing of years that had given him that. Bulma thought every line of pain and every scar made him all the more beautiful.

Their meddling filled them with childish glee, the terror on the rich traveler's faces extremely humorous. It was only humorous because they were together and felt the same, and they laughed uninhibited, and their peals of laughter would fly up into the air wrapped around each other like toffee twists. There was no sensation like the delight and freedom of laughter.

They almost felt embarrassed to laugh so heartily and with such abandon, as if they were doing something forbidden, but neither stopped. They were finally capable of laughter and once they started, it was very difficult to stop even if they wanted to. Laughing is not something you can force yourself to do, not a real laugh. A real laugh comes out in boisterous chortles, un-planned and uncontrolled. You can't shape your laugh and make it a certain way; it is simply your own sound of happiness that doesn't require a mold.

Vegeta didn't know why he was doing this, but he was far beyond caring, he had given up a rational though long ago and it all was the inertia of their movements now. She filled his soul, and it would be near impossible to disentangle her now. He could see her with both eyes closed in the dark; he could almost feel what she felt.

That was all that mattered. The here. The now. She was his, and he had no intention of giving her up thus letting his new found peacefulness slip away. She was heavenly, and he couldn't quell his indescribable need to be with her always, to see the smile that he knew was just for him. It set his heart aglow, as weak as that sounded. He knew that it was weak, but god help him he needed this. He needed her touch. She would touch him so gently, her fingers feeling like a warm caressing breeze, and she would smile, full of light, warm and mesmerizing.

They had a month of joy, of strange heaven. For twenty years they had been guilty, and this was the first time that felt like happiness. Looking back on it when they were old, they did not remember that it had ever rained or frozen then. The world was colored like the edge of a rose petal for them.

But idealness brings nothing but doubt.

There were times when they were in a terror. Vegeta did not feel remorse on his account but he caught it from his lover. In some corner of her heart, Bulma knew this was wrong and impossible. She was holding back, afraid to plunge headfirst into calamity.

"I dare not think, do not think, kiss me Vegeta."

"Why think?"

"I cannot help thinking!"

"Dear Bulma, I have never been so happy in my life. And I dare say I shall never be so happy again. If you would come away with me it would be finished, once and for all. We could live together until we are old, and be happy, and not have to go on deceiving every day, and we should die in peace."

"Let go of me and be sensible. There, sit down and lets have another song."

"I don't want to sing."

"And I don't want to have to think of all this. Why can't we leave everything alone, and let the famous Gods look after it? It is no good trying to think, or do anything because it is right or wrong. I don't know what is right or wrong. But can't we trust ourselves, and do what does itself, and hope for the best?"

"Don't be angry," he said stopping her from moving away by jumping up and holding her tightly, like someone restraining a wild animal from running away.

"You are a beast."

"No I am not a beast, nor are you. Bulma, I shall go on holding you until you stop being cross. I said it because I was miserable."

Her muffled and restrained voice remarked plaintively: "You said you were happy just now."

"Well, I am not happy. I am very unhappy and miserable about the world."

"Do you suppose you're the only one?"

"No I don't. I just don't know what to do."

"Then don't do anything, my love. Come here and give me a kiss, and the Gods will look after us both. I shall not stop being cross until you stop being unhappy."

"I am not unhappy."

"I am not cross."

"You have such sudden faith."

"It is because of you."

Then there were different times when their two passions equally intense would entangle and they would quarrel, mostly about nothing. They were the quarrels of lovers and after appeared sweet.

"Your toes are like the little pigs who went to market." Vegeta said.

"I wish you would not say things like that. It is not respectful."

"Respectful!"

"Yes respectful, why shouldn't you be respectful I am a Princess after all."

"Do you seriously mean to tell me I am to treat you with respect? I suppose I am to bend on one knee all the time and kiss your hand?"

"Why not?"

"I wish you wouldn't be so selfish. If there is one thing I can't stand it is being treated like a possession."

"Selfish indeed!"

And Bulma would stamp her foot, and Vegeta would scowl until they could no longer bear not to forgive each other and return to the more pleasant passions of their relationship.

Things soon began to escalate, and they became more and more daring in their philandering, and before long Vegeta risked to venture to her room in the Fey castle.

Bulma's first reaction was anger but then she saw how wonderfully defiant it would be, right under their noses. She had never had a man in her own chambers before; it was like a devil in a church, how funny he should be the first. She was so unaccustomed to this cosseting, but one does not complain, even if his life may be in danger. She did not think of that at first she was only angry because he was unexpected, her window was not one close to the ground, and she thought herself in disarray.

"I just had to see you, they pose no threat to me, and they cannot keep me from you if I wish to be so. And Dear Princess, you cannot be surprised in disarray, beauty breaks in everywhere."

That was all it took for any previous convictions she might have had to slip away into obscurity, and she melted like a puddle at his feet, not respectful for a Princess in the least. He wouldn't even have had to say anything out loud to put her in such a state; just a look with those eyes could render her powerless to object. She would do anything in those moments of capture, and it frightened her naught, for every day she was falling deeper and she began to trust a little more every day.

They only wanted to be, to exist as one, just lay entwined there undiscovered and safe from the harshness of the world, and the scornful eyes that would be turned to them if they were found out. They would lie there and speak of anything, from war to wind, from pain to poppies, the joy of being free. Nothing they said to each other was made to leave a lasting impression, but they were things they only talked about with each other.

Bulma never wanted to talk to anybody else after having met him and Vegeta never had talked to anyone else before meeting her. They didn't have to worry in the slightest what to say, whether it was proper or not, they knew it didn't matter to the other, it was just nice to be able to use their voice and to have someone to listen. Having someone to share life with, along with all its tribulations.

Yet they were still not completely open for there was one topic they never dared mention. It was their pasts that haunted them. They still feared to think of what life was like before they met, and didn't have enough trust to show the dirty side of their faces.

When Bulma had inquired about Vegeta's family, he said simply that he did not have one, which was the simple answer. The truth was far more complicated. And dangerous. What would she think if she knew he was a member of the most powerful family of Elves rallying to fight her people? He refused to think of it. They really were no family to him anyway.

Vegeta began to run his fingers through her hair that she wore down around her, "It is like...I don't know what. Not like silk. It is more like pouring water, only there is something cloudy about it too. The clouds are made of water, aren't they? It is a pale mist, or a winter sea, or a waterfall, or a hayrick in the frost. It is deep and soft and full of scent."

"It is a nuisance."

"It is the sea. I was born near the sea."

"And now you are back."

They began a deep embrace, with lips struggling against each other, but the two we unable to finish because a knock at the door demanded their attention.

"Oh no! It is the maid with breakfast, I have lost time completely. Hurry, hurry, you must away, go quickly, be safe, we shall meet again on the morrow, now go!" she said in a rushed whisper, pushing a reluctant Vegeta towards the window, giving him no room for objection or complaint.

She sighed as she watched him disappear into the early dawn. Bulma cherished these moments of blissful tranquility; her mind remained fresh and free for hours afterwards. But as she watched him leave, uncertainty seeped into her heart again.

She knew she very nearly loved him, this man that no one else could. She had to keep herself together, hope still kept her safe from the pain. They were strange wild eyed associates with warring hearts spinning out in the madness, but they had to hope. All they could do was hope they won't take this ship down.

It seemed to be like the perfect thing for you and me.

It's so ironic you're what I had pictured you to be

But there are facts in our lives

We can never change

Just tell me that you understand and you feel the same

This perfect romance that I've created in my mind

I'd live a thousand lives

Each one with you right by my side

But yet we find ourselves in a less than perfect circumstance

And so it seems like we'll never have the chance

Ain't it funny how some feelings you just can't deny

And you can't move on even though you try

Ain't it strange when you're feeling things you shouldn't feel

Oh, I wish this could be real

Ain't it funny how a moment could just change your life

And you don't want to face what's wrong or right

Ain't it strange how fate can play a part

In the story of your heart

Sometimes I think that a true love can never be

I just believe that somehow it wasn't meant for me

Life can be cruel in a way that I can't explain

And I don't think that I could face it all again

I barely know you but somehow I know what you're about

A deeper love I've found in you

And I no longer doubt

You've touched my heart and it altered every part of me

And now I feel that I don't have to be afraid

I locked away my heart

But you just set it free

Emotions I felt

Held me back from what my life should be

I pushed you far away

And yet you stayed with me

I guess this means

That you and me were meant to be

AN:..the song it by Jennifer Lopez, ain't it funny? Thanks for reading!


	18. Chapter 17

Stolen Hearts Chapter Seventeen

Stolen Hearts Chapter Seventeen

The day had arrived at last. She had done it. Perhaps the sorrow was finally over and her stars were aligning. Bulma had become a Zeladonii and the celebration in her honor was to be held today, on this glorious spring day that made it hard to believe there could ever be such a thing as rain.

She wished she could play the look on her parents' faces when they found out of her success over and over again in her head. They glowed with a happiness that made Bulma feel like the center of the universe, bursting with pride. They did love her, and that love was becoming more and more evident as they recognized her new drive and zest for life. If only they knew they reason she didn't think their smiles would be as bright, but they needn't know. What they don't know can't hurt them, right?

"I am loved!" Bulma shouted in an excited giggle as she twirled around in her beautiful pristine white gown, customary for the occasion, hers being even more exceptional for she was the Princess after all. All she needed now was a crown of fresh wild flowers and she would be ready. She gave one last laugh of triumph before she galloped outside to the pavilion, her new state of mind not even recalling the other event involving gathering flowers that used to torture her.

"Oh look at all the beautiful flowers in bloom, how could I have ever hated them? Maybe I never really saw them before even though they were right in front of me. I can appreciate them now."

The ceremony was long and flamboyantly royal, but Bulma adored every smile and word of praise she received. This had to be one of the best days of her life. All of the people who used to glare and say she would never amount to anything even near a proper ruler were now bowing at her feet showing their faith in their Princess.

Bulma even began to believe she could do this on her own, and not need a superior husband to look after her and her peoples affairs. She was the royalty and she ought to do this herself, right? Her whole body felt warm and it burst out in a constant smile of graciousness. For the first time, she truly looked like the Princess she was.

A hand on her shoulder made her turn, expecting more congratulations, but instead she received a kiss.

"Vegeta!?" she yelped a little too loudly, and she had to quickly pull him off around a corner before any inquiring eyes discovered there was an Elf in their midst.

"What in the gods names are you doing here you pompous fool? How did you even get here without being caught?? Almost all of the elite Fey are here, INCLUDING generals, are you mad?" she cried in a flurry while still dragging him further away from the crowd. He wore an amused grin, as if he knew a secret she did not.

"I think I have answered that question before. They pose no threat to me."

"I find that hard to believe, you are only one and they are many. You will find there are limits to everyone's power."

"Well then I guess I'm lucky I have you to protect me. You didn't think I would miss your big day now did you?"

"No, I just thought you would come at night."

"Is that all I am to you?" he scoffed.

"Indeed, so you better watch your step, I could fry in an instant now," she jested.

"And I could cut off your head just as easily, but just because I can doesn't mean I will."

"Well, I shall accomplish both."

"You know you can't resist my charms."

"Pah! What charms? It certainly can't be your eating habits!" she tried to say in a condescending manner, but it came out in a laugh as she gave in to his embrace.

It was impossible for her to be ill-tempered today. She laid her head on his shoulder where it fit so perfectly, her second home in his arms, and thought that of all the congratulations she had received today, this was the one she liked the most. They stood swaying like that, supported by each other, happily content to be so close.

Vegeta had been quite put off by his hasty removal the other day and it was like a pebble had been placed in the bottom of his stomach that kept grinding and grinding, no matter how many times he told himself it didn't matter. Seeing her so happy around her people didn't help any either. It was a sharp reminder of how much he didn't belong, and he worried now that she had found peace within herself, she would see no need to take the risk of being with him.

They obviously weren't so close that she couldn't just push him away when it was inconvenient, and he saw that she still kept her heart locked up. Maybe he was just a fleeting affair and she didn't plan on taking it any farther then convenience allowed. There was so much he didn't know about her, though he was guilty of the same. They had to change that if anything was to progress.

But should they? Perhaps it was wisest to let her go her own way. The world seemed to think so. If they were to stay together, he had to be found out eventually, and he could tell Bulma never wanted that to happen. He was and always would be her secret, a secret that would be immensely shameful to tell.

Could this ever last? Was he only fooling himself? Would this only end in pain? It was better not to ask these questions, not to have to answer, not to have to look in the face of reality and recognize what tomorrow could be like. It was better to focus on the moment they were in, to hold their breath, and not think of anything, anything at all.

But he had to know, he deserved to know her intentions. He would not be her fool. He would not fall any deeper if he was falling alone. If he was gone she would still be surrounded with people who loved her, but if she was gone he would have nothing. She didn't need him did she?

He had to find a reason for the way he felt inside, and he had a plan. He was going to take her to a place where there was only truth, where deceptions fell away, even ones you had with yourself, and you could see clearly as you ever would be able to. It was risky but entirely necessary.

"Come away with me Bulma."

"I though I asked you not to talk about that."

"No, I mean just for now, I have something I want to show you."

"Right now? Can't it wait? I can't leave in the middle of my celebration."

"Yes you can."

"Don't be so blatant, we can't all have everything we want."

Vegeta looked at her with an angry pout.

"What? You make me feel like such an evil witch. Stop looking at me like that. What do you have to show me that is so important?"

"Trust me."

"Can I?"

"Yes."

"Alright then, I'll go. But if I get in trouble for this, it's your head. I don't want to infuriate my parents after I have finally earned their respect and love."

"You shouldn't have to earn it. You don't have to earn mine."

"I do, I just do it subconsciously," Bulma tried to act indifferent, but she felt her heart tremble. That was the closest he had ever come to saying he loved her.

"Perhaps."

Their voices quieted as they drew away from the gala, and Bulma didn't know why she had put up such an objection. This would be the perfect end to the perfect day, she thought, her eyes taking in the perfect body in front of her. She guessed she just didn't like the idea that she would do anything Vegeta said. Pride had both good and bad sides.

His deep soothing voice began to flow over her again when they had successfully sneaked a safe distance away. It put her in a trance and she followed him like she was possessed.

"We will climb the hills and get their good tidings. We will go to a place where nature's peace will flow into you as the sun flows into tress. Where the winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy. A place where time drops off like autumn leaves."

"Sounds wonderful, like a dream."

"It is."

And it was. It was a beautiful secluded glade with a crystal brook streaming along towards the sea. The flowers and trees seemed to be radiating life and shone in a golden light, and the water was shinning silver. Everything thing seemed soft around the edges, almost like the world was pleasantly out of focus so nothing would be harsh or garish.

"Where is this? I have not been paying attention to where we have been walking."

"It is a place away from the world and no path leads to it. You only must have faith and it will appear to you."

Bulma's brows knitted a fraction but she spun about in delight until she looked like a flower herself, blue and white elegance, radiant in the afternoon sun. She let herself fall to the ground and raised her eyes to look up and Vegeta looking down. This place made him look young, and soft. His eyes could be soft here. Released.

"It was all a dream wasn't it? Before? All the pain? Say it was only a bad dream and this is our reality."

He simply sat down beside her, not wanting to face that question just yet. Opposite them there was a grand elm tree over which grew a vine heavy with large purple grapes.

"How lovely they are together and how different they would be apart," he said softly as Bulma curled up attached to his side, "The tree would be useless and the vine flat on the ground, unable to grow fruit."

They lay there on the grass away from everyone, beside a huge thatch of wild roses, perfuming the air in a delicious way. For a long time, which didn't seem like anything for time held no power in this place, they laid in harmony saying nothing, until Vegeta whispered,

"Isn't it the most blissful thing in the world to be away from everything you have ever known, to be so far away that you don't even know yourself anymore and you're not sure you ever want to go back to the things you're a part of?"

Bulma knew so well what he meant that it made her sigh and press herself against him as if he was the last thing in the world. He kissed her on the forehead, and ears, and neck, and shoulder and she enjoyed herself beyond anything she had know thus far, she had never been touched this way, and her heart fluttered with every touch of his lips. He reached for her mouth tentatively and his kiss was returned feverishly as satin lips parted readily. Eyelids slid close as sweet tastes were exchanged and savored. Leisurely, they explored each other, hot tongues stroking and tangling and searing, slick lips smooth and warm. Bulma was suddenly feeling that she was made up of only good things.

But just as suddenly she was reminded of the world she had tried to forget. Her past, filled with pain, dread, and evil. Confusion filled her, and for some reason she couldn't drown it here, but it boiled to the surface refusing to be neglected. All her worries, all her fears, all her misconceptions finally caught up with her. Vegeta knew what was going on, she could see it in his eyes, and her heart was distressed.

"She is here."

"What? Who is here?" she said, her turmoil deepening, until she followed his gaze and with a gasp she beheld the most glorious creature in the world, and all her inhibitions and worries flew from her like bats from a cave banished by a light. It was a Unicorn.

The radiantly beautiful Unicorn, with hooves of gold and silver and a graceful spiraling horn of pearl reaching towards the heavens, was standing serenely beside the water as if it had always been there. There was a dreamlike quality in the air, as if a shower of gold dust had come from the sun. It made her conscious of every blade of grass, every color in the glade, every movement of the sacred white creature. Everything was more alive with her presence, singing in praise. She exuded magnificence, purity, innocence, serenity, and beauty. It took Bulma's breath right out of her body and crystal tears shone in the corners of her eyes.

The Unicorn stepped daintily over the heather, scarcely seeming to press it with her airy gait, her coat like a shinning beacon of pure white, whiter then new fallen snow, but sparkling with the same effect as when it is hit by the winter sun. The wind made waves in her long pristine mane, infused with flecks of gold amongst the powerful white purity, but the most marvelous thing about her were the eyes that looked into your soul, showing all the truth that is hidden there. They were great melting faint violet eyes filled with nobility, gentleness, wisdom, trust, and incorruptibility.

They killed all other emotions but love.

It was beautifully overbearing to a mortal's senses and Bulma wept with the joy at this honor. Few were ever blessed with the presence of this holy creature that stood for all light and goodness in the world. On top of it all Bulma couldn't believe it would come to a person like her.

"Her name is Soronume," Vegeta told her, "I found this place long ago. I had run away to end my life, but she found me first. She saw purpose in my life that I was blind to. She showed me the way to Galatea, and they saved me. Every time I thought I couldn't go on, they saved me from myself. Why they chose me to guide I'll never know. I'm not strong Bulma. I try to act like it so no one will see how much I'm breaking up inside. I have nothing to hold me together, a side effect of my youth I suppose. Indifference was never my forte, though I've had much practice. Sometimes my emotions are so intense, like a raging wild fire, I can't control them and soon I find myself with a knife in my hand. I like to see myself bleed because then I see that I am actually alive. And when it heals I know that at least my body is still working." he couldn't believe he was telling her this, he hadn't planned to, but it was what came out when he opened his mouth.

That was what Soronume did, she allotted them the freedom to voice words that their hearts had so locked away, that would have never otherwise been freed.

They finally could tell each other everything under Soronume's watchful gaze. All their shames, all their fears, all their hopes that were crushed, the pasts they had feared to face so openly, and it was wonderful. They didn't see themselves as ugly any longer, there was someone who knew the entire truth about their souls, naked and unabashed, and they did not turn away but looked back at eyes with stars shining out of them. They always thought they would die before they let anyone see them in such a vulnerable position, but now they went on fearlessly into the unknown, there was nothing left to lose or fight. It was like giving in to the undertow. There is not point in fighting it head on and getting so exhausted that you drown, you have to let the current take you out into the deep blue waters.

Most of the things leading up to here was the outside stuff, the usual things they did to hook the other in. But now they had got to the real part, the part they had been hiding because they thought that it would blow it, but it only heightened their affection, they were still here. They could not look into the eyes opposite them and think them dirty from the past. There is not shame in having a dirty face; the shame is in keeping it dirty.

Bulma told him of her past, of how she thought herself a succubus of sorts after she had been broken as a child in the forest. She told him of her siblings deaths and how they bore on her soul like a mountain, and how she was certain her parents whished she would have been the one dead. That was until recently, because of him.

Vegeta admitted his family lineage, and though Bulma was shocked at first, she was calmed as he continued with the story saying how he hardly even saw them. He was a complete outcast, and the reason was unknown to him. He told her the truth of his ruthlessness, and how his 'family' had shaped him into the monster he was at such a young age. He was a blind servant to them for a long time, before he realized no matter what he did, they would never accept him. He was nothing but a scourge to them. Perhaps they were right.

Bulma turned upon him in a swirl of affection, "You are a grand man, a good one, and a kind one. It will come out right."

And Vegeta knew he was in her hands. There was no point in worrying about it now, for there was nothing he could do, he could only trust in her. She was the one for him, the one he had been desperately searching for in his subconscious. There she was, right before him, and he adored his rose petalled princess. Now that he saw the real her, the part she thought he would hate, he was only in love with her more.

It was like a children's book he had once read about a tree who loved a child, and the tree gave the child everything it had just to make the child happy. And even though the child took all its apples and branches and even it trunk, it was happy, because it gave them to the child it loved and the child was happy. He would give her everything he had, that was all he could do, and he would be happy to do it for her. She really didn't have to do anything at all to earn his love.

So they lay together until the world became moon drenched. Together in peace, wondering if anything would ever be this good again and hoping desperately for nothing to break, but for the first time believing it was possible not to.

AN: I love the story the Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein, anyway, till next time, thanks for reading


	19. Chapter 18

Stolen Hearts Chapter Eighteen

Stolen Hearts Chapter Eighteen

As Bulma sat in the garden smiling happily up at the clouds feeling quite giddy and foolish and loving it, Chichi came quietly up to her.

"Hello Princess Bulma."

"Hello dear! Do not be so formal, come and sit with me on this lovely day."

"Princess, I have to talk to you about something."

"Yes, well you are here aren't you? Speak!" Bulma said smiling at her old friend.

"What do you think you are doing?" Chichi asked, unpleasantly serious.

"I am sitting outside enjoying this wonderful day?" Bulma said not knowing what she was getting at.

"Princess, I'm your friend, and as your friend I don't want to rat you out but I feel it is necessary to help you with this. I want you to be happy, I do, but not at this expense. Can't you see this is madness? Ruin? I want you to stop before you hurt yourself."

"Nonsense," Bulma said losing much of her jovial tone, "Don't dampen this day Chi, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, and you can't make it right by ignoring the fact Princess; you can't go on pretending anymore. I've been silent long enough. As you best friend I can't let you stumble blindly into insanity! You must stop!"

"Silence! Do not speak of what you don't understand!" Bulma shouted, getting quite upset by the topic Chichi seemed to know far too much about, "I am not blind, but I...I can't stop Chi, I won't. Don't you see this is all I have?"

"That's not true Princess, you have friends and family right here who love you dearly. Do they not matter at all? Just think of how you will hurt them. Open your eyes."

"I thought I asked you to stop being so formal." Bulma said in a tired voice.

"We will love you more then any Elf could Bulma."

Bulma gaped at he brazen comment, unable and unknowing of how to react. Fear spread through her body. What he house of card about to come crashing down around her?

"You're wrong," Bulma cried, but with less assurance. Her parents had been opening up to her, their love coming in the intense flow of all the love stored away by parents of an only child. Bulma truly didn't want to wreck that. But she knew Vegeta loved her, and she couldn't imagine wanting to live in a world without him.

"You will hurt him too Bulma," Chichi said as if reading Bulma's mind, "You know that's inevitable. You simply can't be together, maybe if the world was a different place, like it was long ago, but there is no hope now. It is better for everybody if you just forget him."

"How? How can you simply tell your heart to forget what it holds so dear?" Bulma's voice was raising, becoming hysterical.

"Tell me you'll end it or I will go to your parents tonight. I'm sorry love, but its for the best. You'll see that eventually."

Bulma glared at Chichi and thought of her catching fire right now. Her parents couldn't find out. It would ruin everything. What could she do?

"Alright, alright... perhaps you are right," Bulma said her mind racing for a way out, "I can't avoid this any longer. I must see him. Don't tell anyone, I'll come see you tonight."

The fractures were already tearing through her perfect picture and she dreaded every minute. She had to see him.

After hours of wandering through the forest, Bulma was still without Vegeta.

'Where could he be?!' she thought anxiously, 'Maybe he has left,' but she knew that was ridiculous the moment it came into her mind. It was just her worried heart overreacting.

There was a rustle in a nearby bush and she ran hopefully to it only to be startled by a playful scaled face.

"Per!"

He gave a lively 'eep' of recognition to the girl he had seen around a lot lately, then bounded off after a passing bunny.

"Oh Per, can't you ever leave the poor rabbits alone? It's a wonder there are any even left in this forest," she said, already in better humor. Per gave her a look that said, 'You must be joking,' and continued to try and dig the unfortunate rabbit out of its den.

'Ugh, well when you're done, would you mind showing me where Vegeta is?"

The dragon's head perked up at the sound of Vegeta's name and it got up, ran it two excited circles then shot off through the trees. It seemed he was just as impatient for his friend's return.

"Wait up!" Bulma yelled as she raced off as gracefully as she could after the flicking tail.

Vegeta was at his family's large stone castle, a rare occurrence indeed. Annually at this time the dispersed Elves came together for a festival and to discuss plans for the upcoming year. Vegeta usually did not make it his business to attend, but it had been a long time since he had seen his family and figured it would be well to know what was going on with his people. He liked to be informed and hated to be caught off guard. He didn't want any unfortunate surprises popping up.

He was very skilled at the art of appearing invisible and mostly stayed in the shadows picking up information with his keen ears. It seemed there were some rumors of a highly secretive plan about, that no one seemed quite sure of the details of, and this unsettled Vegeta. For that reason he lingered about longer then he had planned.

Vegeta had come to be alone for a moment and meditate in his father's gloomy council chambers to escape the screaming fact that he was terribly out of place even with his own people. He hated it and wished to be with his blue goddess. You can understand his shock when the object of his desires came traipsing fearlessly through the doors. Per had known to keep his distance when so many Elves were about, but the determined Princess kept plundering along stately.

"Bulma!" he called walking over to embrace her since she hadn't seen him there in the shadows. It was a wonder she hadn't been caught yet. She had the strangest look as she raced into his arms. It was almost a sad happiness if such a thing was possible. The couple didn't have long to talk though before another dark presence in the room made itself know.

"Welcome Princess Bulma, I am so glad to finally make your acquaintance," the man said with a smile of deceit, "Too see for myself the woman that made my son sink so low."

"Father," Vegeta said and turned on him in anger and panic for Bulma's safety.

Bulma looked with interestand shock at the creature she had heard about, there was something distantly familiar about him, about that voice, something more then just its relation to Vegeta. She would have hated this man even if she didn't know of the horrid things he had done to her lover.

"Too bad I can't say the same," she boldly returned.

"Vegeta," Volsung continued, ignoring Bulma as if she were no more then a fly, "I have tried to save your from yourself, but I have failed. I have failed because you are weak and have caused me nothing but shame. You let yourself be defeated by a Faerie, how fittingly pathetic. You are no son of mine. From the day you were born you've been nothing but trouble, a thorn in this family's side. You want my acceptance when you give me nothing to make me proud? I should have killed you when I killed your bitch of a mother."

Vegeta turned his head at each of the stabs, as if trying to glance them off. All he finally managed to stammer out was, "My mother? Amara still lives."

"Ha! Do you honestly believe someone of Amara's stature would be the mother of a pathetic wretch like you? I guess you don't have any brains either. You have the same weakness as your mother. Your real mother. Yes, now you know. Let it sink in. Does it hurt? I made a mistake once for which I am forced to pay endlessly with my unwanted bastard child."

Vegeta tried to control his temper and consider this situation dispassionately. He made an effort to be conciliatory, but he was not a conciliatory man, so the effort looked actually physical, like an earthquake. What he was hearing made him feel ill and glad at the same time. Glad that he finally knew there was a reason for their hate, but now that he knew the reason, it only made it worse.

His mother, his real mother, was dead, stolen from him, along with his only chance at a normal life and not turning out to be the beast he was. She was cruelly ripped away from him and he had lived his life in confusion. Always hated and never knowing why was such intolerable cruelty. Why had they kept this from him? Probably to keep Volsung from being questioned.

Vegeta growled horribly. He was filled with loathing at this incredible injustice. It was almost too much to process. They should have indeed killed him as well and saved him the sorrow of losing the world. Of losing her, the mother he would never know.

"Who was she?" he shouted trying to keep the pain out of his voice unsuccessfully.

"Does it really matter?" Volsung coldly replied.

"Yes!" he returned with fierce anger sneaking back into his voice.

"Her name was Elentari; she was a Light Elf who trapped me with her wiles. She was a wicked enchantress and was punished as such, though not quick enough. She had enough time to burden me with you, for she loved you so much and did all she could to keep you hidden from me. But I found out and against my best knowledge I kept you alive. You were my blood after all and I thought I might be able to turn you into something, beat the softness and light out of you. Only now do I see how wrong I was."

"No more words of a time that is dead. There are words that are better unheard. Maybe she wasn't a wicked enchantress, maybe you just loved her and were afraid of that! It is you that has turned our people into shame, not I!" Vegeta cried in a lost voice and Bulma stepped up behind him and held him softly. She must have know he was about to break apart and what she was doing was holding him together. This action however drew Volsung's attention to her.

"Well now Princess," he said with a bone chilling laugh, "Don't you remember me? It's so delightful that my son should fall for you and complete this circle of madness, for you are poison just like him and his mother, maybe even more so. My son had fallen for the same bewitching evil as his father did."

Bulma began to breathe through her nose, she was feeling as if there were two red thumbs behind her eyes trying to push them out, and she couldn't look at him for with a frightening realization she remembered who this man was. It would break Vegeta's heart. She was trying not to make a scene for his sake, but she dreaded her weakening heart. Shame and hatred filled her. She was like a person swimming in a rough sea on the verge of drowning. He was the dark man in the forest who had broken all her illusions on that day of her youth so long ago. He had come back to break them again.

She felt Vegeta looking at her questioningly, but she could not face him.

"Yes you remember me. Your own lover's father was the one who broke you. I hold your soul, not he. Does it surprise you? I doubt it. I think that is why you were drawn to him, because he is part of me. You two are my puppets; it is quite amusing to watch you flop about like you have some will of your own."

"No," Bulma tried to whisper in protest. Every word that he said was a dagger in her. She could not cry, she could not speak, she thought that she would turn to stone right there. She was trying desperately to get the muscles in her face to do what she wanted them to do, to regain control of herself, but the only thought that screamed through her head was, 'Vegeta must hate me, Oh God you are a fool Bulma, damn you.'

"Do you see what you have let yourself be absorbed by Vegeta? She is a demon that had bewitched me as well," Volsung said smugly.

"You? ...You are that man who..." Vegeta stammered unable to finish his sentence when the sharp shock of reality hit him with its full force, "Bulma tell me it's not true!" he pleaded.

She looked at him with sad eyes that could cut through bone confirming his worst fears.. Vegeta was frozen. Could this really be true? Something this horrible? She must hate him for his association with the man who had hurt her so deeply.

"Oh don't look so sad Princess, your dashing man here is no saint either. I believe you had a brother didn't you? A young brother killed by an Elf no less? Well look no further for revenge dear madam for you brother's murderer stands in front of you! I was there myself. It was your dear Vegeta who shot that arrow! Ha ha ha! You two are so hopeless," Volsung continued in his thrashing of their souls.

"No no no no," Vegeta murmered in a pained chant as Bulmas arms dropped from him.

"Oh yes my son, oh yes," Volsung continued laughing, quite pleased by the pain he was causing. And he didn't even have to lift a finger! How delightful.

"Oh god Bulma I didn't know, I didn't know!" Vegeta cried losing all hope that she would ever even look at him again.

All of Bulma's will slipped away and in was replaced by a bad feeling she did not have a name for. She only knew that it felt like sadness but heavier then that. She knew that this was not her first bout with the terrible overwhelming disappointment of reality and it would not be her last. She had lost the temporary peace of heart she had invented for herself and she could no longer drown herself in the passing minute. The charade was over. The deceptions were gone. She was poison, and he was a murderer.

Hate swelled within her. Hate towards herself, and hate towards Vegeta for being the one thing she could never have imagined, and the horridness of it overcame her. Hate for him making her love him, hate for making her hope, hate for making her aspire so high, only so she could fall so far. God damn him, god damn herself!!

Tears poured out of her suddenly as if a black cork had been pulled from the bottom of her soul.

With her eyes red from tears and a crooked smile of madness on her face she ran, unable to look at the man she loved, the man who killed her brother. Such injustice! She was disgusting! The end was here. There was only ruin in front of her.

Vegeta stood alone, his feet seemingly glued to the floor by his hollow heavy heart. Everything was broken, everything was wrong. His pain swirled out until it was too much to contain.

And then only one emotion could now surge trough him.

Rage.

He blindly attacked his father who was expecting and ready for this reaction. Vegeta felt he had to kill his father for what he had done to Bulma, and what he had made him do to her unknowingly by killing her Brother.

Vegeta's attack was strong but the intensity of his rage made the attack sloppy and his father's knife quickly reacted and was now at Vegeta's throat, lingering.

Vegeta begged his father to kill him, more furious then ever. "Why do you stop? Come then and kill me and finish your butchering. I will not yield. Kill me at once, for I shall only fight you again if you spare my life." He was crying, "I have nothing left to live for, kill me!! Kill me like you killed my mother!"

His father did not kill him, a strange look crossed over his face, and that gave Vegeta enough time to wildly trust his sword upwards in a fatal blow.

Volsung slumped down and his knife clattered to the ground with a sound of finality.

Vegeta's rage subsided as he felt the weight of his Father's dead body over on him. Vegeta's face was stone, insanely mixed between venom, blandness, and misery. It was only then that he realized how much he had loved his father, and so he began to hate him even more for the guilt he felt. If only he didn't have these sickly woeful passions. He hated his father for being dead, for making him feel a beast, for not loving him, for not killing him. Now there was nothing left to do but vent his shame and hatred of himself upon the corpse, setting it to flame as his tears continued as a disgraceful reminder of a heart that still lingered woefully on.

Vegeta looked about the room, which was wreathed in flames until it looked like hell, with a sorrowful affection. He had killed his own father. Could there possibly be anything for him after this? He looked at the blood on his hands and remembered what it was for. For her. It was no bewitching, it was love. He loved her still with desperate passion.

He fell to his knees with a cry. He had half a notion just to stay there and let the flames consume his evil. She would not love him. Not anymore. How could she? How could she possibly love such malice? How could anyone?

With the weight of a broken heart he rose. He had to be strong for her, she was his purpose. He had to make sure she was alright and that she had made it back safely. There were many Elves about and it was not an outrageous possibility that she could've been captured in her wild exit.

Once he found her and knew she was safe, he would then leave to finally end the suffering he called his life.

AN: A lot went down in that chapter, and I'll try to get the other one out soon. Thanks!


	20. Chapter 19

Stolen Hearts Chapter Nineteen

Stolen Hearts Chapter Nineteen

Vegeta found Bulma not long after, for she had not traveled far in her exhausting distress. He came to her side and stood in silent misery, she was crumpled on the ground drinking in the moment when the blackness would hit her and the void would call.

He gathered her in his arms silently, holding her close and trying desperately to quell the shakes that ripped through her small frame.

Swiftly Vegeta carried her away from Elvin land and back to the safety of her people. He stopped a mile or so from the Fey Castle and set Bulma down, still shaking and listless.

His heart ached at the sight of her more then he thought one heart could possibly ache. He wished more then anything she could just be mad, that she could just hate him and be able to move on with her life as if he had never existed. He could not stand that he had caused what he loved so dearly so much pain. It unmade him.

He had always suffered from violent emotions but this was too much and he started to cry. It was such a sorrowful sound that it made Bulma pause in her own anguish and finally glance up at him for the first time since this whole disaster had started.

She didn't think he could make a sound like that, and it broke her heart in turn. How had things gotten so bad so quickly? Was he not the same man she had loved regardless of his past discresions, was she not the same one he loved despite hers? Could they ever get past this?

The hate Bulma had felt before fizzled into nothingness as she watched him. She sat in awe at the fact.

She couldn't hate him. She couldn't hate the man who killed her brother because she loved him so much. She loved him so much and so desperately that she would love him still even if he killed _her_.

Bulma gasped at her realization, it left her breathless and confused. How could she love so much? She left the palace this morning not knowing exactly how she felt about Vegeta and now only after she found out that he had killed her brother did she realize how much she really did love him. How crazy was that? But that is exactly what she was. And she didn't mind it.

She was tired of fighting. Tired of the constant struggle to make sense of things, to make sense of this love. The love she now knew was there from the beginning, she had just been suppressing it in her fight against rationality, but the events of today had smashed rationality into oblivion. All she knew now is that she never wanted to see him cry again.

She lurched forward and embraced him with the passion of hopeless love, but passion above all others.

"Please stop crying! It breaks my soul apart to hear that sound! Please, forget today, I love you! Above all sense and reason I love you still, gods be damned, so please, please don't hurt my love."

Vegeta drew back in utter shock.

"You love me?" Vegeta repeted in compete surprise and wonder at how she could possibly love him, "How…? I…. I…….I love you Bulma, above everything in this world I love you! I am so sorry, a thousand years or sorry for what I've done. It haunts me every night, I know that doesn't change anything, but I am forever sorry for the monster inside me. I killed him Bulma, I killed my father, he could not live after what he did to you."

Bulma gazed wide eyed at him. "You did? Vegeta…. I ...I'm so sorry... no one should have to face their father in such a way….The world is so dark, so cold and dark, why the hell am I here? All I feel is sorrow and hate and guilt. I'm like a warning, a shapeless, odorless, gray shadow. I suck the joy out of everything I touch. I spoil it, and I have blundered always."

"Bulma, don't be sorry for that monster! It's not your fault, you are not evil, you are the one who has been wronged. You are wonderful and full of light. It is my family, they are all a bunch of absolute nothing," Vegeta said envious of the contempt he managed to put in his own voice, "I am a wicked man as well. It is I who should feel guilt, it is I who suck the joy out of everything, not you. I do not deserve your love."

"Vegeta!" she exclaimed, "You are not to say so. It is so ridiculous that it makes me feel ashamed. I love you and you do deserve it. You are not wicked," Bulma finished suddenly completely convinced.

"You would not call me a wicked man?" Vegeta asked in surprise.

"I would not dream of such a thought," she said fiercely, "You were raised by wicked people. You were never given a chance. Your mother…….." Bulma trailed off unable to finish, and not wanting to bring up old horrors.

Vegeta stood looking puzzled and sad, but pleased at the same time. He considered it ridiculous to suppose that he was not wicked, but he was grateful for her faith, and amazed by her love. He had been so convinced that she would hate him. It seemed their bond was much stronger then either had ever imagined.

It had stood defiantly resisting all the attempts to break them apart. It was as if they stood brazenly taunting fate, 'Go ahead world, do your worst! Our love is real.'

"Well in any case I don't propose to be wicked any longer. It will be my business to prevent bloodshed from now on, not provoke it." In her eyes he found the will and strength to now do it. If she didn't think him wicked then he would have to be so.

"Are you sure you love me?...I have so many flaws."

"I take the good with the bad. I don't love people in slices, anyway there is absolutely no flaw that I can see. I Love you Bulma, I will love you forever." he said with that soft smile that could always bring her marching heart back to a slow walk. He said it clearly and sincerely, without any doubt, only pure confidence. And she believed him. If anyone could love her, it was him. She felt the grace of his love and it was a lifeboat to her drowning soul. She could take shelter from the storm in his arms.

This love was something that could make them extremely happy; the only trouble was that it lay at the bottom of a deep murky pool, and no matter how much water Bulma bailed out, she could never get to the bottom.

The idea that she was wicked was deeply burned into her mind, especially after the recent confrontation with Volsung. The thought that the world she was in could be soft and nourishing more then she could bare, so she stood there and wept for she didn't want to love one more thing in her life, didn't want one more thing that could break her heart into a million little pieces at her feet. But it was there all the same, and she did want it, she wanted him so much it scared her.

She knew that she did love him more then she ever thought possible and that he must feel this same fear, but he was brave enough to face it. He trusted her enough to conquer it, and that was more then enough inspiration for her to lift herself from the ground.

"What if it is juts fanciful words. What of our inevitable doom?" she said shakily, still unsure of herself.

"It is not juts words. Can't you feel it?"

"...yes, yes I do," she whispered, as if afraid to scare it away.

"And what of this fatalistic thing? What if it is just an excuse we tell ourselves so we can stop trying? Gods know it is easier to just let the current take you, but I won't. I won't give this up, I am going to fight. I am not your deceiver or your eloquent liar Bulma. When I say that I love you, I mean it with everything I have. So show a little passion when fear obscures the course, we have gotten this far not by luck, but by never turning back," Vegeta said taking hold of her and looking into her eyes.

"I am your excuse, your outlet for pain," He continued, "I make you isolate and forget your problems. I numb the bad feelings...I protect you from the world which can be so bitter and heartless. I make you happy, I make you crazy, I make nothing else matter. If you let go now, the world will kill you. I know this because I feel the same. Don't you see how much I love you? I am not afraid of what that means anymore."

She dried her tears and looked at him, smiling like a spring shower. Just when she was so exhausted with the world that she didn't think she would be able to go on, there he was. There was a passion in his eyes that she couldn't deny even if she wanted to. If only he knew how influential he could be.

"Oh gods, this is starving, incredible, insatiable, yes, this is love for the first time. I love you Vegeta, I love you so much. I was made to love you."

In a second they were kissing, feeling like the green earth refreshed by the rain. They understood each other again, and their love was as strong as the earth as well. Blessed were the tears that fell, cleaning the windows of their souls and ushering in a change of heart. Bringing a joy that only angels know. They washed the stains of life away making all forgiven and forgotten now.

Mouths sought each other again in a desperate, scorching kiss, tongues flicking out to tease along swollen lips before plunging in to tangle and twine sensually, their hearts suffused with love, yet simultaneously clenched in agony. The kiss spoke volumes in itself, and they clung to the one thing in the world that could make them complete.

As Bulma kissed him her tongue reached to caress the roof of his mouth lovingly and apologetically, letting him know that she was completely his at last. He was her one and only love. Vegeta's smile lit up his face. His reaction was as if Bulma had bequeathed upon him that title, with all of its privileges and responsibilities, like it was a priceless treasure, which it was to him. Volsung's attempt to break their love only made it stronger.

They remained inseparable until night's shade had descended, both lying and thinking of how their worlds were forever altered today. They were slowly taking it all in with only the stars to watch them.

Bulma looked at her lover lying under the brightly lit sky, moonlight clasping against his body making him shine a beautiful color, like he was a fallen angel waiting to die. She could only guess he was thinking of his family, his father. His mother. She didn't want to speak for fear of disrupting the scene before her. She wanted to take a picture and show the world what true sadness looked like.

"You should go home before they begin to worry about you," he said softly, realizing her was being watched.

"I do not care."

"You should. A loving family is nothing to take for granted."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine. But promise to come to me on the eve of tomorrow, and we will consummate our love. It is a special time of the lunar calendar of my people where the stars and planets align with the full moon. On that night the God and Goddess are joined in union for a time of pure joy, bliss, and love where all inhibitions are put aside allowing the heavens to fill your soul with courage. It is said that if you proclaim and seal your love on that night with an honest heart, you will have a bond that will last forever. Would you spend it with me Bulma?"

"There is nothing in this world I should like better," Bulma agreed whole-heartedly, her eyes shining with love.

"You give me a great honor," Vegeta said, relieved she had said yes.

"Nay, it is you who does the honor."

"Must you quarrel at everything? I was trying to give you a compliment."

"I don't trust compliments," Bulma said with a sweet laugh, "How is it you can make me laugh no matter what darkness I face?"

"It is love."

"Indeed."

And her smile was as if the sun had risen.

Bulma returned and slept soundly- not necessarily because worry was absent -but because she couldn't take in anything else. But her sleep was filled with pleasant dreams and she forgot all about Chichi's earlier warning that was the start of all this.

AN: They finally have started to work out all the kinks… what lies in store? Find out next chapter, Thanks for reading.


	21. Chapter 20

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty

The sun sank lower and lower until the western sky was all like one great furnace of melted gold. The sunset was behind a peak which stood up sharp against the brightness, rebelliously distinct. Bulma paced anxiously. Was this the right spot? Did he change his mind? Was he just joking to make a fool of her? When would she be able to calm her mind and stop being in such a frenzy all the time?

The man who held her heart appeared clearly before her in moments, and that sight was as sweet to her as a fountain to a traveler strung with thirst; as land to a sailor who had been long lost at sea.

Vegeta tried to give her a reassuring smile. At a young age, he had learnt to distance himself as a means of retaining his sanity, and now he was going to join his soul to another. It was unnerving to say the least. This ground that he walked on was unsteady and strange. He had yet to find his balance.

There would always be this chasm between their wounded hearts. Yet without her, already he felt this void gaping within. What an irony, But for all the danger and troubles that would come from being with her, the pain of losing something so precious was far more acute.

He knew he would give up the world for her. Live the rest of his life in even more agony if he could just be able to call her his, even if it was for only a moment, to be with her completely with their very souls entangling. His sanity was a small price to pay for her ... for her love.

But could he be enough? Was he really able to not be wicked? For one thing he knew he liked to hurt people. One reason he fell in love with Bulma was because the first thing he had done was to hurt her. He might never have noticed her as a person, if he had not seen the pain in her eyes. It was like they were trying to bring down the moon. This love had to be strong if it was to last.

"I was worried," Bulma said quietly, sensing his distance.

"Perhaps you should be."

"If there is any reason I shouldn't be you would do well to tell me now Vegeta," she said with definite worry creeping into her voice. Had he really had a change of heart? She knew this was too good to be true.

"I don't understand how you love me, why should you love me? Are you sure you do? Is there not some mistake about it?"

"There is no mistake Vegeta, trust me. I thought I explained this well to you yesterday," Bulma said smiling with relief that his hesitance was only out of confusion, "My love for you is better than diamonds. I would give you the stars from the bruised evening sky if I could. Anything and everything."

"Bulma, Thanks to you I am one with the gods And Heaven is near!" Vegeta said, smiling and looking as though he really had finally accepted the fact that she loved him dearly.

"So you are sure of your love too then?"

"Yes. I do believe I am. More then anything. You challenge me, fascinate me. You make me feel needed, strange, happy, angry, alive. You evoke emotions in me that no one else does. I was a fool not to acknowledge it. And I would be a greater fool not to do something about it. I love you. If there is one thing in this world I am certain of, it is that. It is the only thing. I cannot pretend that every breath I take is not for you," his voice broke with the enormity of his confession. He hoped she would not be frightened of the intensity of his emotions, but she felt just as intensely so there was no need for fear.

"It is foolish to be worried then," Bulma said, "No hope had vanished from my heart. Some may criticize and judge, but they can't take away the love that will live inside us forever. There is every reason for us to be."

He smiled brilliantly and took her hand to lead her to some prepared spot and Bulma could feel the magic of this night. Would their joining at this time really bind their spirits together? It seemed to Bulma that they already were.

For the first time she was not afraid. She trusted him completely with utter faith. Damn the consequences, she wanted, she needed this, and spite on any who dared to take it from her. Only he could have the best of her.

As they walked through the darkness distant songs could be heard through the crisp spirited air and Bulma listened intently to the unfamiliar refrains.

OH, Leader of the Wind Riders

The Night of Need fast approaches.

As we call forth the Need-Fire

We shall look within ourselves,

Giving strength, honor, and love

And thus in return see re-birth

As the Wheel turns once again,

Every stop becoming a fresh start.

Now is the keen Fire kindled

To spread light and warmth,

Expelling the cold of Winter.

As we share this glorious night

With spirit-guardians, kith and kin

"Shall we make our own song for the heavens? The stars seem lonely tonight," Bulma inquired, uncertain of the proceedings to this ritual, and feeling the desire to raise her voice with the distant melodious tune.

"I think it would be lovely. I have always enjoyed your voice above all other sounds."

Bulma would have smiled if there had not already been one upon her face. She cleared her mind and let her voice take flight.

"Moonlight twirls in orbits, Endlessly around our love. A Faerie's fingers dancing as she wakes the sleeping doves. The limits here are endless, 'round our minds, and 'round our hearts. This world is such a masquerade, and I forgot my part. Dancing ever silently between the veils of night. Crying ever desperately, my soul burns from the light. The fire's glow consumes us, embers seeking life once more. Throwing laughter to the winds, what was now-becomes once more."

"Bulma," he spoke her name as if she belonged to him deeply, like a memory, "My heart is yours to fill or burst or bury, whichever you prefer. My hopes are so high that your kiss could kill me, so won't you kill me? So I die knowing what bliss feels like."

"My dear," she said as she threw herself to him, feeling her eyes tear and threaten to overflow. Her mind raced. 'This man really loves me, he loves me so much he would die from it, he loves me without reservation. I never knew love could be like this, so wonderful, I thought it was all a joke, a lie, that I could never learn to love another. But its real, it's as real as the air or the water or the earth or the fire, and I can feel it as such, oh gods I can feel it, I can feel him!'

Bulma went from feeling burdened and old and tired to feeling light, new, and clean. She was transformed from a failure to a triumph. It was the moment she knew who she was.

"Vegeta, my heart is so infused with love that I think it might burst. Do you think you can die from loving something so much? I used to wish for it, but now I hope it is not true. For the first time in my life I do not lust for death. I lust for you, I love you. Lay your hands over me," she said in a teary rash, having too much emotion to keep inside. What she felt for Vegeta was searing, scarlet, blazing, iridescent, too much to be controlled.

"Yes, no more fear... no more deceptions. You shall have all of me, and I shall have all of you," and with that he kissed her in a possessive way, lingering over her mouth and pressing her whole body into his. The ground was steady under his feet again. They were ready and waiting with open and honest hearts.

The full moon, serene and proud, rose over the clouds that had barred it from sight and it washed over the land, giving it a mystic appearance. Bathed in the moonlight, Bulma felt the light of the Goddess steaming over, streaming through her, and she was Bulma no more. She was part of something else, something greater. She was part of him.

She lay there feeling the surge of the life of the earth around her, the pounding tides of spring, and she seemed to expand, to fill all the void, as life surged inside her, body and soul. He was kneeling beside her and she reached up to him, gripped his hands, and drew him down to her, feeling the soft warmth and weight of his body. He kissed her and wrapped her in his strong arms, warm and alive. He had lost himself just thinking about the two of them. He lingered upon her sweet, delicious, perfect mouth, and she had no doubt that he would do his best for her.

She was in full awareness and could savor every touch, the softness and hardness, the strong young body and the surprising gentleness behind his bold approach. She laughed in delight at the pleasure, fully open to him, sensing his own enjoyment as her own. She had never been so happy. His naked flesh glistened smooth in the glimmerings of the strange light of the stars.

He pressed his lips gently against hers, tracing the tip of his tongue along the curve, but not going in. He kept his attention focused on her supple lips, gliding his tongue over the plump softness and occasionally nibbling lightly. He slanted his lips over hers again after a detour down her neck, and this time she returned the kiss, her soft lips parting readily as she melted against him.

They were reacting, responding moment by moment now; the speed with which the kiss rapidly deepened was little surprise. Her tongue tangled with his, stroking and flicking, and she tasted an intoxicating sweetness of fresh rainwater.

"I need you... I need you.." she whispered, repeating it like a sacred incantation, invoking the most pleasurable movements from his hips. The taste of his lips on hers, the way he stirred her inside, the swirling in her head were all so wonderful, that she was sure she had escaped all darkness and deceit. She was someplace where honest feelings were all that mattered, where words were molded into the rhythms in her heart not the workings of her mind. They were together as intimately as any two people could ever be.

Crouched over her, Vegeta made slow, unhurried love to his Princess, his hands ranging sensually over valleys and swells, his teeth nipping and grazing satin skin, his tongue tasting the salty tang of the fine sheet of sweat that shimmered on the pale flesh. Bulma's eyes were closed, smoky lashes fluttering slightly against high cheekbones, swollen lips parted slightly as she panted. Her hands threaded through dark, spiky hair, fisting weakly, and then moving down to knead muscular biceps jerkily as she thrashed in agonized ecstasy.

He groaned as he took in the highly erotic sight, oh gods, he burned... With a low growl, he quickened his movements. Pausing, he looked down at Bulma, loving the raw desire he saw in smoldering in her heavy, half-lidded eyes. Legs clamped around his waist, drawing him further in. He could not get enough, he could not be deep enough, and it seemed neither could she.

"Move, Vegeta..." It was meant to be an imperious order but came out as a guttural plea. He gave a feral smirk and rocked his hips slowly but powerfully, relishing the breathy groans he was wringing.

He was commanding the very Earth to give way against his desire... he thrust into her fiercely driven by a force he hardly understood, and it seemed to her she was as the passive earth beneath the rain and wind and storm, and it was as if the lightening struck deep into the earth beneath electrifying it with its force... He screamed, and she heard forever in his tone, eternity echoing in her pinnacle cry.

Round and jagged and wonderful and.. can you taste the moon? Because she could swear it held the essence of the moon flying from his lips. She had to pull herself to him because she could not let go at this point. Being filled and fulfilled and happy and belonging, she needed to savor these things. They had escaped the surly bonds of earth, and danced the skies on laughter silvered wings, moonward they climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of star split clouds, up up in the long delirious burning blue.

But they couldn't stay in that state forever and the force binding them took control once again. Slowly they slipped back down to earth, still reveling in their trip to heaven. He moaned and fell forward across her, lifeless except for his horse breathing. She cradled his weight in her embrace, holding him with weary warmth. She felt him kiss her naked breast and slowly his breathing returned to normal.

Their bodies and minds were worn out, but it was comfortable and safe somehow to be thus tired. She smiled at him serenely, being more perfectly content then she ever thought possible. The words were on his lips, ready to say, but he kissed her softly instead. There was no need for words. They both know more than they can ever say.

Bulma could feel him even more. He was everywhere around her and in her, mind, body, heart, and soul, and she wouldn't have it any other way. She kissed his hair and his soft cheek with a wild tenderness. She flung her hair back looking though the moonlight at the fair body still sprawled atop her in exhaustion, limbs twined, caressing each other in a pleasant fatigue.

"You were the Goddess a moment ago and now I find you are a woman."

She laughed lightly. "And are you not a God, but a man?"

"I think I have had enough of being a God, and besides, it seems to me presumptuous for a man of flesh and blood," he said holding her against him, "I am content to be no more then a man."

"Perhaps there is a time to be God and Goddess, and a time to be no more then flesh and blood."

"Do you think the Goddess will be angry with me if I like the woman better?" he asked with a smirk as his hands explored her body.

"It seems only fitting," she smiled back and lost herself in his kiss again, thinking it could be forever in this moment. You know it is love when in the silence all you can here is a heart beat and you can't tell if it is yours or not.

They had brought a piece of heaven back down with them and they clung to it desperately, relishing and needing its hidden warmth. They tried to form more words but their thoughts were misconstrued. They were two people who had so long been lost in the dark that they were nearly blind, stumbling around, hands outstretched, trying to feel their way.

Bulma found her tongue first and murmured against Vegeta's neck, "Just when I think I couldn't love you any more, I go and fall further. I am beginning to think your love is an endless pit."

"I don't think you shall ever find the bottom dear Princess, I'm sorry," Vegeta sighed and let his eyes slide closed, "I'd give the world to you, with all of my heart. This blood through my veins is for you. You alone have all of me. Every single thing you do to me is like I'm drunk. Your love is more precious to me then all the treasure in the world, then all the starts in the sky, all the fish in the ocean. For you I would crawl through the darkest dungeon, climb the highest castle wall, fight the fiercest dragon... I can't think of enough clichéd sayings of adoration to express to you the intensity of my undying fervor for you."

"You don't have to Vegeta, you don't have to. All I need to do is look into your eyes and it is all there. It is the most beautiful thing ever to behold. I may not understand this completely, but I know, I know in my heart, that it's pure, and right, and I will never renounce it. Even if there are a million reasons, life to deny, I will toss them away. Love is all we need dear." And Bulma cried. She cried because she could see his beautiful face before her, she could feel his touch, she could feel his soul!

"Oh I love you so much Bulma, I love you, I love you," he said kissing her with each declaration, "I could never say it until now and now I can't say it enough. I will tell you I love you every day for eternity so that you should never forget," and he pressed his lips against hers as if he wanted to leave an imprint of his love.

"Vegeta I could never forget because I feel it in my bones, I can feel it all around me. Does this mean we are bonded now?"

"Almost, all we have left to do is make a verbal declaration of our love to the world and it will be complete."

Somehow Bulma knew the words without him having to tell her and they said them perfectly in unison, looking into the others honest eyes.

"I will always love you with every corner of my mind, every drop of my soul, every string of my heart, and every fiber of my being, this I swear by the stars."

Bulma would have though it foolishness to say those words a moth ago, merely a game for the childish mind, but now they were sweeter then any that had ever been spoken, and she could truly feel them and reveled in their meaning.

"There must be hundreds of things that could go wrong," Bulma said, her voice breaking with emotion, "But laying here with you, holding your hands... I can't think of one of them. Not one. They are banished, chased away to the far corners of the world at the mere thought of you, and all I can think of is how I could stay like this forever and be wondrously happy, so happy the heavens might become jealous. You bring my dreams to reality Vegeta, and for that I am forever yours. This is the truest thing in my entire life and nothing is going to take it from me."

"All this endearment is so strange for us."

"I know, it seems surreal."

"Bulma," Vegeta said turning serious, "I'm going to have to leave this place, for they will hunt me down for the murd… for the death of Volsung. They won't stop. I know you don't like me to ask you this but if I may be so bold, I would ask you to come with me to someplace far away, where the world doesn't know us. If you wish me to stay so you can still be with your people, I will stay, for I cannot leave without you. It is up to you."

"Vegeta if your life is in peril then you must go, there is no question about it, but I ... I don't think I can.. ," Bulma's eyebrows were knitted together in worry. Could she leave her family? She loved them but…. He needed her more, "No. I will come with you."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to have to leave the people you love."

"Who knows, I might be able to come back some day, and right now you need me more, and I need you more. There is no uncertainty about it," Bulma said confidently and wondered where it came from, "I will return home briefly and gather what I can. The sun is already rising in the sky. Where and when do you wish me to meet you?"

"Here, at noon," he said unable to hide his joyful smile. He would have her all to himself at last. They would be free of this condemning world.

"Alright, until then my love," Bulma said breathless with the sudden turn of brash events.

She gave Vegeta a long farewell kiss, having to forcefully pull herself away from him like two powerful magnets. Every other step she glanced over her shoulder at the other half of her soul, aching at the parting, but eagerly looking forward to the future.

A new creation was here to stay.

AN: oK..now What exactly is that creation? And should she look forward? Is the princess really turning her back on her people? And what of Bulma's "nothing is going to take it from me" is that famous last words? Until next time, thanks for reading.

"Private Emotion"

Every endless night has a dawning day

Every darkest sky has a shining ray

And it shines on you baby can't you see

You're the only one who can shine for me

It's a private emotion that fills you tonight

And a silence falls between us

As the shadows steal the light

And wherever you may find it

Wherever it may lead

Let your private emotion come to me

Come to me

When your soul is tired and your heart is weak

Do you think of love as one way street

Well it runs both ways, open up your eyes

Can't you see me here, how can you deny

Every endless night has a dawning day

Every darkest sky has a shining ray

It takes a lot to laugh as your tears go by

But you can find me here till your tears run dry

It's a private emotion that fills you tonight

And a silence falls between us

As the shadows steal the light

And wherever you may find it

Wherever it may lead

Let your private emotion come to me

Come to me


	22. Chapter 21

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty-One

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty-One

Bulma entered her room just before her serving women came to wake her and find her missing. She still couldn't believe she had evaded discovery this long, other then Chichi of course, but soon she wouldn't have to hide anymore.

Bulma smiled wider as she smelled Vegeta's scent still clinging to her and it revitalized her with the tangible hope that she had found happiness and would live the rest of her life loved in Vegeta's arms.

She let out a girlish giggle and hugged Danae bidding her good morning, for she was unable to keep her glee inside. Peace was hers at last.

Danae raised an eyebrow, she had her suspicions but it was not her place to say, so she acted as if the Princess' state was completely natural.

"Isn't it beautiful today? Just beautiful!" Bulma said still hugging a very uncomfortable Danae.

"Aye madam, that it is. Perhaps you have heard your parents' good news already?"

"No I have not Danae, what is it you speak of?"

"M'lady, all I know is that they have something very important to tell you and I am to get you up and prepared to attend to them as soon as possible," she answered smiling at the courtesy the Princess had shown her by using her name, something she had rarely done before. She liked this new Princess much better. Whatever it was that made her so, she hoped it would stay.

Bulma's curiosity was spiked but her cheer was not dampened as she dressed and hurried off to she what this was all about. It would be good to see them one last time, even if she couldn't say goodbye, at least she could hug them. She would leave them a note to read when she was gone.

Still what was this news? Could her mother be pregnant? That would certainly make them happy, but her mother was past her childbearing years.

"Good morning dear Mother and Father, I do hope all is well with you," she said merrily as she entered, noting a man a few years her elder that she had not seen before standing off to the side.

"It is my lovely child," her mother replied with a brilliant smile, she was very pleased with her daughter's new attitude. It seemed everything was going right for once.

"Your father and I have some wonderful news for you. As you know we have been exploring the possibility of your marriage, and we have discussed it and have agreed that it is in your best interest and the kingdom's best interest for you to be joined with Sir Yamcha here. He is delighted and he will be a good husband to you and a fine leader one day. The ceremony is scheduled take place next Saturday, aren't you excited?"

Bulma simply gaped at her in horror. Every word was a drop of sorrow seeking to hide itself in her plenteous joys, wanton in fullness, begging to be crushed. The downpour had begun.

The reality of her untimely departure was beginning to become real to Bulma, and the affect it would have on her Parents. On her people. What would it look like if the only heir to the Fey throne disappeared with an Elf into oblivion? What would happen?

Why now? Not now... Why couldn't they have done this a month ago when she would have gladly done as they wished and married whomever they threw at her? Why now when she had finally found love? When she had just the night before bound her soul to another. You fool Bulma; you deserve to have your heat shattered at your feet.

But it was not even her heart to give anymore. It Was Vegeta's. That was the knife that cut the deepest. No matter. This changed nothing. She was running away in a few hours anyway. They could deem Yamcha heir, wife or no wife.

"Excited? Excited?! I think I would be more excited at my funeral! How can you say 'we' discussed it and decided, how do you know what my best interest is, how can you say what my best interest is?! You don't seem to bother to think of that, no one seems to think of me. In your eyes I am still just like a child that is lost in the woods. You have never been able to see that perhaps my needs are more important then your wants," Bulma's voice was hollow with anguish as she screamed; she looked strange and distant, out of control. She was terrible again.

Bulma's mother moved swiftly to her side and caught her in a close embrace, actually hurting Bulma's arms as she ground her fingers into them.

"Chichi came and spoke to me last night," Bulma's mother whispered to her, her voice cold and terrible "She had some very interesting concerns about your actions these past few months, and I can't said I was pleased to hear what you have been up to," disgust drenched her every word, "You will NOT make a fool of us Bulma, you will NOT ruin this family, this stability with our people, you stupid selfish child! Forget him this instant! You are not to leave the castle grounds with out an escort. You will be watched. You will be punished. And you WILL marry Sir Yamcha."

What an awful thing that is, as if the ground on which you are standing on is slowly being pulled out from under your feet and beneath is nothing, an empty hole through which you will fall forever. Bulma's mind raced in misery as her mother whispered her ultimatum to her. She was trapped.

Bulma felt something wet on her face. Until that moment she hadn't realized she was sobbing madly. Her face was streaked and soaked with tears that kept coming. She stood there gasping in a wild panic, searching for a way out like a cornered tiger.

"Why must you always torment me so?" her mother continued furious, now loud enough for everyone to hear, "It is ingratitude, perfidy, treachery! Sorrow to the grave! My faith! By the blue!" She continued with almost all the angry expressions she knew.

"Ungrateful?!," Bulma screamed back in a frenzy, "I only ask to marry, to LOVE whom I wish!"

Her mother glared at her with pure disgust knowing full well who this 'love' was. The most unthinkable disgust.

"Really Bulma, just when I think it can't get any worse," Her mother said pained now, but still furious, "And you were doing so well…."

"Let's try to do this with as little hysteria as possible please," Bulma's father interjected between the two raging women, it was clear he knew nothing of Vegeta, "I don't enjoy the idea of you having to marry not out of love Bulma, but as the only heir to the throne it is not an option for you to simply marry who you want to. Love is an illusion Bulma. This union is what matters not some silly idea of true love."

"Yes," Harmonia agreed, "You must make decisions with you mind, not you heart. You are a Princess. You have Responsibilities. People depending on you. Love fades, but obligation does not. There is no reason you cannot learn to love Sir Yamcha in a logical way that is much truer then any fleeting passion," she said as if it were indeed a logical math equation.

"If not for yourself Bulma, for your people," her father added, "You have a duty to uphold. What could be so important that you must forget that, forget them?" he inquired with a skeptical look, and Bulma faltered.

She couldn't tell her father, couldn't bear to see the disgust and contempt in his eyes just as she had seen in her mother's. Bulma had always been closer to her father. She respected him. It was easy to fight with her mother, but not so easy with her father….

And just when she had started to receiver his love and respect. If they were indeed going to try and lock her up and marry her off, there was not point to beg and tell him of her secret love that she was bound to. It would not change his mind. Even if she did tell him it wasn't like he would let her run off with Vegeta, leaving the kingdom to falter.

Maybe she should sacrifice herself for propriety and save them the utter disappointment. All they would see her as was their biggest mistake. As if all their efforts to civilize and salvage her over the years had some to absolutely nothing in the end.

Bulma couldn't go back to that, she just couldn't. But at the same time she could not deny Vegeta, not now. But it wasn't even a choice in the end, for if there was a choice for her, family and people be damned she would have Vegeta. Damn the consequences!

The only hope Bulma had to leave before was to leave in secret, but her mother knew, she knew! Now that was gone and she was trapped. Trapped in the center of a tornado.

She had let herself fall under the spell of her own beautiful delusion thoughtlessly, she really thought she would be able to run away with him. Chichi was right, she would only hurt Vegeta in the end, Bulma thought, hopelessly miserable. Vegeta and she never had a chance, no reason to hope. She had looked into his eyes and saw a world that did not exist, a world she wished she was in... But she couldn't. How she wished she could be free.

Bulma couldn't take their judging eyes any longer and she fled back to her room in a frenzy where she could hate them in silence, overwhelmed. But she didn't even have her solitude for long as there was a timid knock at the door. They couldn't even leave her alone in her misery could they? It wasn't enough that they had won?

"Go away!!" she screamed but the knocker ignored her cry and opened the door slowly.

It was her husband to be.

"You parents said I should look after you, since you shouldn't be alone right now. And I suppose we ought to get to know each other since we are to be married."

"Woe upon that day. Are you so confident? Don't be. And I'd rather be alone right now thank you," she said as bitterly as she could possibly sound.

"I am sorry that you are not happy about thins Princess Bulma, I know it is sudden, but I promise you it can not be as bad as you think. I will promise to always honor and love you."

"You can keep you love."

"Why are you so hostile? I have and will be fair."

For a moment it crossed her mind that if she humiliated herself to him, if she knelt down on her knees and begged him not to pursue this, he might be soothed. But it was evidentially hopeless. He was fixed in a course, like a ball in a groove. Even his conversation was, as if it were a spoken part. It would end according to the script.

"Yes, you will be such a just and noble king. It is easy to be fair when it is over. That is the amusing part. Justice, you can keep that too!"

"Peace Bulma," he said eyeing her with a dangerous look, "You are a very beautiful girl. You make me feel... I want you."

"I am not to be HAD for the wanting!" Bulma spat, boiling with anger and derision at his boldness.

"Not even by your husband?"

"You are not my husband yet!"

"Soon enough, it is all trivialities from here on out. You are mine now."

"Get out!" Bulma pointed at the door and made stabbing movements at it with her finger, trembling so much with anger that her hair began to fall into disarray, "I will _never_ be YOURS!!"

Yamcha simply grinned back at her.

She ran up to him in tottering steps, wanting to slap the smug look off his face. She caught hold of him and began pushing and heaving him towards the door, but he would not move. She tried to spit on him, but she had never practiced spitting.

He in turn took hold of her and easily threw her to the bed. He was too powerful, she even felt his spirit energy swirling around her. Her parents hadn't chosen a know-nothing as heir to the kingdom. They knew war lurked, and they chose who they thought would be a powerful leader.

"Don't act so chaste Princess, I know you are far from it. A whore like you should be honored that a man such as I would take you."

Bulma opened and closed her mouth a couple times in a furiously offended shock. Who was this crude uncouth man and how had he deceived her parents so? She couldn't believe what he had just said to her as she growled in rage and cursed back at him, "Even a whore won't be had by a rat!"

That broke his composure for a moment as he looked like he had been slapped, then his eyes narrowed with lust.

"Calm down my wife, your parents told me to comfort you and I intend to do just that. What kind of husband would I be if I did not please my wife?" Bulma shrunk away as he ran his hand up her thigh taking her dress with it.

"Fie on you! I would have more pleasure from throwing myself off a cliff! Get away from me you barbarian," she screeched and tried to attack him, getting one good scratch down the side of his face, but he held fast.

Fate was bent on punishing her and the man was inexorable. A new freshet of tears welled up and overflowed before Bulma gave in, her last objection being a keening wail that nobody heard. They had locked the door and threw away the key. There was no escape this time.

Bulma felt her heart breaking off piece by piece. Until this lowest of low moments when she was taken against her will by her future 'husband' Bulma had still harbored hope in her head of escape. It was still a distant possibility in her mind. She believed she could still find a way to be with Vegeta.

But now. Now she was broken. And she realized there was no hope. It was over.

'I'm sorry Vegeta,' she thought as her heart constricted in overwhelming pain again at the though of him waiting there for her…….. and she wouldn't come. What would he think? Would he move on?

She had not lived until she had met Vegeta, how could she live when they were parted? She was dumb before the surge of all her sorrows and now succumbed, powerless to withstand the tides of misery the gods swept over her. She closed her eyes with her heart distressed and finally slid into welcome darkness, one last crystal tear falling from her eye.

AN: aw man, Yamcha's just so easy to hate! Bulma, you can't give up now! We'll see in the next chapter, thanks for reading.


	23. Chapter 22

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty-Two

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty-Two

Bulma looked around her solemnly distant, detached. She was breathing, but she didn't live. Her eyes were empty.

Chichi had already come to see her and lavish her apologies, but they meant nothing now. Bulma simply stared blankly at her.

Bulma had never felt so heavy. It hurt to breathe. She tried to keep her mind blank for if a though of him entered the pain was overwhelming.

With those heavy thoughts that matched her heart Bulma impassively out her precariously high window down to the cold ground below where two guards stood alert. Her mother had made good on her promise of keeping Bulma well guarded. Bulma was utterly trapped in her own life.

Her door was well guarded as well as the castle perimeter. It seemed her parents definitely suspected their headstrong daughter to try something drastic. Did that mean they did see her pain and just chose to ignore it? She shook her head trying to rid herself of thought for it wouldn't help anything, but bad thoughts come whether they are wanted or not.

Bulma just hoped he wouldn't try and come for her. The only thing keeping her from going completely insane right now was the chance that Vegeta was alive and safe somewhere far away. She shuddered to think of what might happen to him if he dared enter Fey territory.

It seemed everything was filled with tension, probably because of King Volsung's death. The Elves must be filled with unrest and anger. Were they hunting for Vegeta?

Tears blurred and stung Bulma's eyes. She hated herself again. She hated everything. Everything except him. She loved him still, and some part of her was beyond thinking of herself when it came to his well-being.

She couldn't change or save the world, she realized that now, but she could've saved him. That would've been enough for her, and he would've saved her too. He was capable of living for a single purpose, and she wanted to be that purpose for she felt like if only she could just be with him she would be whole.

That was all ruined beyond compare now. She could only hope he was strong enough to live without her. To forget her.

Bulma held her breath and tried to clear her head. The pain was becoming too much again. She let out a haggard sigh.

Little did Bulma know as she looked into the black night before her that there was something far more deserving of her worry then Fearies of Elves, lurking in the shadows waiting.

The distant screams were her first and only warning.

Bulma tried to gasp in horror, but all that came out was a strangled choke.

In the silent gloom of the night she saw outlined against the stars something which she hadn't believed possible.

It was a dragon. Not just any dragon, for that wouldn't have been so strange, but one so large and monstrous it had to be Nargothrond, the father of all dragons, as old at the hills themselves. He had lain dormant for so long he had passed into legend, but obviously something must have awakened him for he was alive and real before her, in all his terrible glory.

If you were to behold the terror of the father of dragons your heart, no doubt, would be frozen in your chest, your body paralyzed with fear in its most raw form. Even the earth trembled with his coming; such was the trepidation of this colossal hunter. A deafening roar tore through the forest causing trees to shake with its pure ferocity. The sickening smell followed close after, snaking through the air, making her breath catch in her throat. It was the smell of death, enough to make even the strongest quail.

The creature was a moving mountain, so massive that it was hard to comprehend that is was indeed a living creature and not some ancient foundation of the earth. Large red orbs pierced the blackness of its body, narrowed threateningly with hate. The thin black slash down the center was searching with malice, drowning whoever looked into them in their unfathomable depths, and Bulma desperately hoped that the beams of light radiating from those unholy spheres didn't fall upon her.

From its gaping mouth lines of white daggers stood hungry for blood and gnashing with impatience as fire seared out from between the death spikes at random intervals, licking the air in scorching tendrils in an intimidating show of hidden power. Just one of the enormous sharpened teeth could easily spear through a human as if they was no more then a loaf of bread.

From its back great midnight wings arise like a shroud of death, killing whatever light there was in their absolute pitch. When those frightful appendages began to beat a tempest commenced, lying to waste in their wrathful fury anything that did not have roots reaching deep into the ground.

Claws protruded menacingly from muscular gnarled legs that slashed furiously through the ground, leaving yawning chasms in their wake. The beast of utter darkness and power was evil all the way down to its ironically heart shaped spear at the end of its tail that could, with one simple snap, cut the strongest tower in two like a twig. A sweltering heat exuded from its impenetrable scales as the invincible dragon found its prey.

Bulma opened her mouth to scream but such was her alarm that no sound came out but a strangled gasp of one who knew their death was closing in. All she could do was stare in wide eyed at the majestic vision of horror that was forever stored in the chambers of remembrance as she was enveloped in blackness.

For it is commonly known that Nargothrond loves to take prizes of beauty back to the pits of hell with him, and such was the reason when his demon eyes found the Princess, she was doomed.

"Oh gods! Oh gods have mercy! Nargothrond has returned and taken the Princess!! All will be laid to devastation and fire!" cried a guard frenzied with fear having seen the black monster when it made its presence know with an earth trembling roar as it snatched the tiny Princess up in its claws then proceeded to rip an unholy pit into the ground as it burrowed to unknown depths.

The horrifying strangeness of this news traveled quickly like befitting fire, and mayhem followed close behind. The world was turned to terror. They were doomed! The certain demise of their Princess was the least of their worries, for all except one that is.

Vegeta had been waiting with an impatient heart for his love, fearing the worst

'Why hadn't she come? Had she changed her mind? Was she done with him?' He thought in anguish.

No. No, he was done with doubt. He would not doubt her love anymore. He couldn't, not when they'd come so far. Something must of happened. Something terrible.

Vegeta rose with a steely determination and headed towards the Fey castle bent on finding his love. It wasn't until he heard the screams of despair that he truly began to worry. And then he heard the cry that stopped his heart.

_"Oh gods! Oh gods have mercy! Nargothrond has returned and taken the Princess!!"_

His heart clenched with the madness of sorrow and desperation when he heard, and he wasted no time in racing to do what he could to save Bulma, or die with her. It was amazing how quickly he was able to decide that fate, in fact it wasn't even a choice, it was what he HAD to do. He had to save her, even if he could very possibly die trying, it was the _only _option.

Not once did it cross his mind to be concerned of his own safety all he could think of was how he had to go quickly to the belly of the beast and pray that he was not too late already. He had no hesitance in risking his life for hers, because if he could not save her he wanted death, and that he was sure to meet in that god forsaken pit of doom the accursed dragon had spoiled the earth with.

He had never been a man who lived with much fear anyway. For himself anyway. Now he felt a crazed fear for her.

'Please Gods don't let it be too late!!'

The small crowd of watchmen at the abyss who were ready to send up the alarm should the terrible head of Nargothrond emerge gaped in astonishment as the saw the Elf walk up with a fearless determination and begin his decent without so much as a single waver.

"Is he mad?"

"Why would he do such a thing?"

"Does he hunt for death?"

The things the heart can do for love are limitless.

Vegeta gulped and brushed the perspiration from his brow as he traveled deeper and deeper into the ever warming trench. The air now felt like it was practically burning his skin causing his heart to tremble, but never falter in its intent. He made a prayer to the heavens that if he should die; let him die, as long as she lived.

He had to find her. He knew she lived yet, he could feel it. He knew of their bond well and what the feelings meant. Yes, she was alive, he would not have the strength nor will to move if she were dead.

Just when he felt he could not hold on to his consciousness any longer in the sweltering inferno the path opened up into a gigantic hollow cavern, and at the center of that room there was a large black mound, blacker even then the blackest pitch of the stones surrounding it. Vegeta had reached the heart of the lair, a breath away from hell.

Nargothrond was slumbering. It seemed he was fairly confident that no one would dare be foolish enough to venture all the way down just for one silly little girl, and it was high time he took a well deserved rest from all his strenuous work. It had been a very long time since he had done anything like this sort of thing after all.

But he had made one fatal misjudgment of what one man _would_ do for that silly little girl he had stolen away. Indeed he had picked the wrong one to mess with.

Vegeta growled with distaste at the stench wafting from the dragon that was so pungent it was almost unbearable, but it had little impact on his steel will that drove him to continue. She was close, he could sense it. He sharpened his Elvish sight and scanned the room hopefully from the blue woman.

There! In the corner, that had to be her, it was like a patch of light in the blackest night sky. He rushed to her side as swiftly and as quietly as possible.

"Bulma?" he whispered in a plea, she lay so still, was she alive?

He gathered her into his arms and lowered his ear to her lips.

Breath! She was breathing still!

He quietly stood, barely daring to breathe lest he unsettle the sleeping terror, and began his escape with a tense heart.

But it was not to be so. When Vegeta was a few hundred paces away and out of the chamber the strange scent of the Elf finally made its way to register in the unconscious of the dragon and his immense eyes shot open in a fiery flash, searing them with its gaze. The giant dragon saw what he had worked hard to steal being stolen back and he was furious beyond measure or reason. The pure audacity someone would have to challenge him!

Vegeta heard, or more like felt the dragons rage as he leapt to action. "Oh god" was all he could say as the world around them began to fall apart. It was well that Vegeta should be turned away from the creature for if he looked back and saw its horror, he might not have found the strength to flee.

And flee he did, he didn't think he had it in him to move to fast, but the adrenaline in his system was sky rocketing beyond anything he had ever experienced because now he had someone to protect. Someone he HAD to save.

The horrid monstrous head whipped from the entrance to its den to snap at the heels of quickly retreating feet. Flames whirled a licked viciously around them with an undeterable vengeance as the chase ensued. They wouldn't have had a fighting chance had the tunnel been any larger. As it was now the dragon had to squeeze to get through, impeding his speed just enough to let Vegeta keep his lead, and his life.

Vegeta had to dodge left and right, up and down, to escape the hurtling rocks and spits of flame that flew deathly towards them. The tunnel was beginning to get steeper and steeper, and the beast was gaining. Vegeta began to lost hope. It was too steep, he could never climb out with Bulma quickly enough,

But as if in answer to his thoughts, or maybe the crashing of all the debris around her, Bulma awoke with a start.

"Vegeta!" she screamed, disoriented in horror.

"Fly princess, fly! Get out of here! Leave me!"

"No, Never!!," Bulma screamed defiantly over the thundering roars that were quickly closing in on them.

"Damnit go! We don't have time to argue!" Vegeta yelled back shoving her upwards.

Bulma set her mouth determined, and grasped Vegeta under the arms and surged upwards with a strength that came from her love. Only the strongest Fey soldiers had ever been able to carry another full grown person, but Bulma was able to lift Vegeta as if he were no more then a child, such was her crazed need to save him in turn.

The last climb to the world above was completely vertical and Bulma flew furiously towards their freedom. Vegeta would have been awed had there not been a 1000 ton dragon at their backs, barely missing them with his daggered teeth as they took flight.

A rush of fresh sweet air signified their exit from the horrible pit, but they were far from safety.

In on last fearsome thrash Nargothrond overtook his prey, his teeth latching in a death grip onto one of Vegeta's dangling legs, ripping him from Bulma's arms and bringing him crashing back down to the earth with him.

"Nooo!" Bulma screamed in a furious protest that was loud enough to be heard over the bellowing roars over Nargothrond as he pummeled his victim delightedly. They would not get off without paying for their offense to him.

Bulma's strength faltered for a moment and she plummeted to the ground amidst a group of warriors and observers that had gathered since Vegeta had first descended. Her parents were among them.

"Bulma you are alive! Thank the heavens!"

But Bulma did not hear a word. Her mind and voice were screaming in agony as she watched her love get tossed around like a toy, helpless to the incredible foe. Dear gods the thing was _playing _with him like her were a toy!

Bulma's stomach turned. She had to do something!! He was going to die, die because of her. No! No no no! She wouldn't let it happen again! Not to him, never to him!

"Vegeta!! VEGETA!" she screamed incoherently as she rushed forward out of the grasps of her family, running blindly towards death. She didn't care if she died, she didn't. All that mattered was Vegeta, she HAD to save him.

And then something inside her snapped. Something was set free that had been laying dormant, waiting for a chance to emerge and make her whole.

"Bulma NO, you'll be killed!!" they shouted after her retreating form, but were silenced soon enough as they saw her transformation.

There came a swift flash, like fire, but it burnt no one. She was flying towards Nargothrond in a whirlwind of white radiance emanating from her very soul. Her hair and wings were shining white as she collided violently with the blackness.

There was no competition.

Nargothrond fell from her as if he were a mere pebble, as helpless as a child against the pure power and light flowing form Bulma's being. Eyes widened and mouths gasped as the watched the mystifying spectacle that almost appeared humorous for such a small beacon of light drastically beating an immense mountain of darkness. Realization crept upon them.

She was a Valkyrie.

To say the Fey people who watched helplessly below were shocked would not do justice. They couldn't move.

Bulma did not even take notice though. All she knew was that saving Vegeta had to be done, and that was exactly what she was doing. Nothing more, nothing less. With a blast she secured her victory over the father of all dragons, and it barely crossed her mind how inconceivable that was in her wild concern for her beloved who lay in an unhopeful bloody heap.

'Was I too late?! Please no!" was all Bulma could think as she flew to him.

She was at his side in less then a second with her newly acquired powers, desperately pulling him into her arms and smoothing her hands over his hair. Blood coated them in seconds…. So much blood…..how could someone lose so much blood…….?

Bulma shrieked when she saw it there in his eyes. The undeniable truth. He was dying. She had failed.

She began to cry and tremble and scream, bathing him in her tears, not feeling strong at all anymore. She desperately tried to put pressure on his wounds, to stop the bleeding, but there was too much!... just too much……..!!

"Vegeta no! Don't die, please don't leave me!" She begged desperately through her tears, feeling her sanity slip away. She bowed her head to his until their foreheads touched and began rocking back and forth.

"Yes my love, forbid me now to die. I'll obey," Vegeta breathed ever so faintly, "..I shall…… try to obey."

"Vegeta," was all she could sob as she saw his eyes dim and become unfocused, "Come back Vegeta. I can't live in this world if you aren't in it!"

"Bulma," Vegeta whispered as his eyes found hers again, blazing lights in the darkness. She was still glowing brilliantly with the light of a Valkyrie.

He slowly moved one hand up so it could rest on the side of her face brushing the tears away. Then he began to whisper again, as faint as the breeze, "Let this be my farewell.. Now that I have found love it is harder to die...I pray that the gods will one day see it fit to bring me home, to be with you. Be strong. Be safe... my love is forever.."

This goodbye was too much for Bulma and she leaned forward and feverishly kissed him, pouring all her soul into him so that he might find the strength to remain in this harsh realm with her.

Little did Bulma know that she now did indeed have the power to give the breath of life. For what is a Valkyrie, the promoter of life, if it cannot preserve that gift? The kiss of life!

Vegeta's fatal wounds closed as if they had never been there in the first place. His eyes fluttered open, no longer shaded with pain, and his brows knotted.

Bulma began shaking with a silent joy.

"What kind of angel are you? Is this heaven?" He stammered confused, looking at his body that was just seconds ago ruined beyond repair.

"I don't know," Bulma cried with joy, tears still flowing with her emotional overload, holding him even closer, "I love you, I told you nothing can break that, not even death."

"Bulma!" they were interrupted by the crowd rushing over now that the threat of the dragon was surely gone, "Bulma my child! My child is a Valkyrie, will the wonders never cease?" Aeolus said happily embracing Bulma, and in the act pulling her away from Vegeta.

"We are saved, we are saved!" the chant went up as the people cheered this most joyous of occurrences. There was a Valkyrie before them, still exuding its white grace like warm visible rays of moonshine. She was Bulma no more.

Bulma smiled meekly but turned to Vegetas side and held him by the waist. She wasn't ready to be parted from him by even a millimeter yet. The fear of loosing him was still fresh in her mind. Vegeta stood steadily by her, but she could sense his unrest. So many Fey surrounded him…. Was it safe? It seemed they were too bust cheering and celebrating the Valkyrie to take much notice of the Elf in their midst.

But one person in the crown did not cheer. Harmonia's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. As shocked as she was to see that her daughter that had always failed to live up to her standards now the most powerful blessed creatures on the planet, she was not distracted. She was not blinded by her daughters light; she saw exactly what was going on.

Bulma thought she was in love with that... that Elf, and it made her stomach turn. How could she be happy about her daughter being the legendary Valkyrie when she was affiliated with such a monster? That dirty Elf was indeed the cause of all the problems with Bulma. Harmonia was so enraged that she wanted to go over and rip his filthy head of for spoiling her daughter so. It was almost too outrageous for her to comprehend!

Harmonia calmed herself. Now was not the time. She must put on a happy face, for she would be a fool to not recognize her daughter's powers and attacking what she had just so violently fought to save would most likely mean suicide, even if she was her mother. It was obvious Bulma was not in the right sate of mind and needed help quickly before she was lost. She didn't know how, but in some way this Elf had entrapped her poor daughter, and she would do what a mother had to do. She would set her free.

She would have to make Bulma believe that her mother accepted this infatuation of hers, she embrace him with one hand, only to stab him in the back with the other. Harmonia smiled as she walked towards them. As soon as he was away from Bulma she would have the pathetic life of that fool who dared think he was worthy of touching her daughter abruptly ended.

"Mother?" Bulma's voice rang into her thoughts. Yes there was worry there, as rightfully it should.

'If you knew it was wrong my child why did you do it? This must be the most proud and disappointed I have ever been. But the pride of the Valkyrie will override and I will eliminate the reason for disappointment,' Harmonia thought practically.

"My dear lovely child, look at you! I am so proud; I always knew that you were special, I knew it. And what thanks do we owe this brave young man who risked such peril to bring you back safe to us?"

"Oh mother! You do not need to thank, as long as you accept, I love him!" Bulma answered, her eyes glistening with happiness as she threw herself lovingly into her mother's arms when she smiled warmly in response.

'Why should they be so accepting of him? Is it not odd?'

The thought darted across Bulma's mind like a moonbeam and then was gone, she was not thinking at all. She was too overwhelmed with the happiness of having Vegeta alive and in her arms and the idea that everything might actually work out for everyone. Her emotions had been through far too much of a marathon today.

The attention of the crown was finally drawn to the Elf being held by the Princess. Questioning murmurs and raised eyebrows ripped though the crowd with judgment and fear. Bulma did not notice this unrest; she was too happy and holding Vegeta as close as she could.

Bulma's father was confused as could be but was too amazed by the coming of the Valkyrie that was his daughter to pay much mind. It would all be sorted out later.

'I am sorry my child, I am doing this for your own good,' Harmonia though as she felt guilt singe through her at the look of joy on her daughters face. But she was firm in her resolve. It had to be done.

AN: Hmmmm, interesting revelations. Till next time, thanks for reading.


	24. Chapter 23

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty-Three

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty-Three

'Where could he have gone?' Bulma thought with a growing wary feeling in the pit of her stomach as she scoured the grounds for a third time in an attempt to locate her missing lover.

Bulma couldn't believe her good luck with her parents accepting Vegeta, and that disbelief was the central source for her apprehensive state. Yes he had proven himself in saving her, but she still could not see why they would roll over so easily after centuries of hate. She was also plagued with the idea of 'you cannot have your cake and eat it too' theory.

Never in her life had things gone so easily her way, so it is no great wonder that her heart was not yet at rest and she still became dreadfully nervous whenever she was separated from Vegeta for long periods of time, which in this case constituted as a half an hour.

'But I am a Valkyrie, I have nothing to fear,' even as she thought this she knew it was folly to be so arrogant. Life was one thing that would not surprise her with its disappointment and ruthlessness, and she had had little of late time to ponder what it really was to be a Valkyrie with extraordinary powers or what she was to do with it. Her whole world had become a whirlwind of hope and chance, a world where it was hard to keep your place for more then a few moments, leaving no time for balanced thought.

No one would have even believed that she of all people, the unfortunate little princess, was actually the legend come to life if they had not seen her with there own eyes, her hair glowing white like the light of heaven itself. The whole palace seemed to be caught in the same strange storm of uncertainty she was. The ground had been recently and drastically shifted and it took everything a while to find its place and settle back into the way of things.

All except Harmonia that is. She landed swiftly on her feet without a falter, easily sliding back in her way and thinking of what must be done for this faraway future the people had seemed to have momentarily forgotten about. While the world was in awe of Bulmam, she was devising away to unknowingly undermine her.

Bearing a child always gives you the right to have a different perspective on all that they do. Maybe she had always known of her daughter's greatness and that's why she had been so upset at Bulma's shortcomings, but the past was of little consequence now. There was only one more little obstruction that was keeping her daughter from rising to absolute prominence and she intended to dispose of that quickly.

Little did she know in her blindness that in fact she was actually wiping out her daughter's only chance.

"Mother! What are you doing down here?" Bulma called when she saw the shrouded figure emerging from the shadows of the dungeon. Her heart leapt at this strange sight, for the Queen was hardly a person to be found down there without a specific purpose. A flash of guilt crossed her mother's face before it was quickly smothered with a comforting smile that bore no warmth for Bulma.

"Nothing dear, shall we go to dine? The hour is getting quite late."

"Mother," Bulma said slowly and skeptically, narrowing her eyes as she did so, "Have you seen Vegeta?"

"Who? Oh yes him. I have seen him."

Bulma cringed at the airy condescension of her mother's utterance and demanded to know where he was, not liking this game in the least. Her heart was beginning to thump a warning, but she didn't want to hear her fears. 'Stars hide your fire! Let me not see the black and deep truth that lay within!'

"Peace child, there are things you have to understand. You remember our conversation earlier; I have done what had to be done to ensure the safety of you and our people, as I always have. I have done you a favor you see? You were better without him and-"

"Mother!" Bulma interrupted not liking where this was going. She didn't want smoke and mirrors; she had to know straight out, so she asked again with pleading eyes, "Where. Is. Vegeta?"

Harmonia's eyes darkened and became distant. She shied away and remained silent, as if deciding whether of not it would be safe to reveal the answer to her daughter's question. By Bulma's shaky breathing and dilating eyes Harmonia thought it would not be wise to do so.

Infuriated and not being able to stand another minute of this dreadful silence that you could cut with a knife and felt like a blade at her throat, Bulma broke it.

"Mother where?!"

"I had him executed," Harmonia said quickly, almost as a reflex to the loud intrusion of her daughter's demand, like a testimony against the accusing tone that it only proved true.

Bulma felt as if all the earth's gravity had been gathered and made to center on only her, she was reduced to a tiny speck that weighed the world. Hearing those words was far worse then any physical pain could be.

She stood still in an appalled silence of sorrow and loathing. Her head ached, her eyes ached, her mouth was dry but she could not swallow, her throat ached, inside her ears was the sound of waves wanting to break free but only dashing themselves against a wall of rocks.

"No...no..no!!" Bulma said, first in disbelief, then in absolute sadness, and then in the incredible anger of betrayal, "How could you..you horrid monster!? I trusted you..and you go and stab me in the back without even blinking! I hope you are happy MOTHER, I hope you are happy with what you have accomplished! I..I am just embarrassed that I even came out of a beast like you!"

Bulma's words came out misconstrued in the torrent that pressed at her sanity, but they lost none of their potency. Widows fell to pieces at the terrible force of her anger, hate, and misery personified. Her mother was thrown to the ground and cut by the thousands of flying glass shards.

"Please, daughter, try to see the sense in it! You are better off without him, trust me, I know the world, I didn't think-" her mother tried franticly and vainly to explain to the raging power that roared furiously in front of her that she had trouble recognizing as her daughter.

"No! Do not speak to me! I do not want to be poisoned deeper by your filthy lies! You... are NOT my mother!" the Valkyrie choked in a final cry, one that the whole castle could hear, before she turned and fled in the madness of despair, the screaming sound of her heart breaking a haunting sound that no one who heard ever forgot.

Bulma was teetering on the edge of a fence, to both sides lay madness; one was a violent madness that would have left countless cities in ruin, while the other was one of private and dark desolation. Luck for the people surrounding would have it that it was to the latter she managed to fall.

The broken princess locked herself in her room. She didn't want to hear another word spoken, she didn't want to see another face ever again if it wasn't his. She was all alone again, nowhere to go, no one to turn to. She had managed to destroy the only person who had ever really loved her and she hated herself almost as much as her mother.

Only now when it was too late did Bulma see her folly. It had been a mistake, with him, a terrible mistake, but how was she supposed to not to make mistakes when she didn't know what to do at all?! She should have never trusted! Never believed! As soon as Vegeta was saved they should have ran, and ran, until they were at the ends of the earth!!

Bulma wept and screamed. She had never cried so pitifully before. Fate was cruel to allow her to realize her mistakes only after there was no hope of turning back...what had she done?

Bulma was losing whatever hold on the reality she had all together... and there was nothing to bring her back, there was no use in going back to it. She could never fix this broken life of hers, it was stupid to even try for there was no pot of gold at the end of her rainbow, only the terrible consuming blackness. There was now only a pit of sadness, bottomless and despairing, that she would fall forever into.

Vegeta was dead. Murdered by her own people. Nothing was left for her in this life.

The bottom dropped out and she forgot to fight. There was a grief that couldn't be spoken; there was a pain that went on and on. Here they had spoken about tomorrow, but tomorrow would never come. She would just fade away into the blackness that, in an instant, had become her life.

It's a funny thing how an entire life is usually defined in just a handful of instances, the rest being simply the empty space of routine. It is those precious instances that hold all the consequences, and they flash by too fast for us to change them once they have come upon us with our backs turned.

The instant of darkness in Bulma's life had stolen all the light that had once shined in her eyes. She was a Valkyrie no more; the majesty had left her as all her will to live did. Her clear direct eyes showed the depth of her sudden grief over her loss, her shoulders seemed to collapse forward in defeat from the heavy burden. It makes the sting much worse when you fall so far from happiness to sorrow, when you actually begin to believe in life and love, only to have it thrown back in your face. That is much worse then when you had no hope and were expecting as such.

Bulma's distant hope for love had once been something to live for, a handrail-not a particularly sumptuous handrail, but sufficiently serviceable to keep her upright. She had been able to make due, but now she had found it and it had been brutally taken away, crushing her small rail to dust.

She cried slowly and primitively. She knew her tears would not bring him back but she was beyond herself. There was no way she could gather herself back together this time. Why bother to get up? What good was there? Only to be beaten down again no doubt. There was no reason for her to continue living, no purpose. She should just lie here with her face to the floor and waste away in her tears.

How many tears could one person shed?

From the floor, damp eyes stared out the balcony window, seeing nothing but the occasional blurring of the landscape as another tear joined its brethren to soak the ground. Her crying had reduced itself to occasional sobs after hours of emotional turmoil, but the dull aching pain in her heart had not diminished in the least. Bulma was utterly broken. She curled into a fetal position as another shiver of despair washed over her body, a cold numbness that bled from her heart. Perhaps if she simply lay there long enough, everything would just go away...disappear into an empty void.

At such a young age she was already on a personal basis with real bitterness, real regret, and real hard-heartedness. Her despair was in full bloom, just like the flowers she had come to hate again. Life without Vegeta meant nothing at all.

'It was my right to die with him, why should I live if I must live in hell?' Bulma thought with closed eyes, 'Come then, deep night and enshroud me in the darkest smoke of hell so that my keen knife will not see the wound it makes, nor heaven peer through the blanket of dark and make me falter in my intent.'

She had to leave this world. She knew this with a kind of certainty that made fear irrelevant. Fear is only for those who have the slightest possibility of survival. She knew that she had none, for she was already dead inside.

Bulma looked down at the knife in her hands with detachment, the blood flowing down her wrists had no pain, on the contrary it was almost a relief, a beautiful distraction.

She was thin and pale and cold again. Each moment felt like a ball of lead. Her eyes slid shut with no intention of ever opening again.

AN: Ah Bulma what are you doing? What is going to happen to turn this mess around? You'll have to read the next chapter! Thank for reading!


	25. Chapter 24

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty-Four

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty-Four

Vegeta's eyes squeezed shut but he refused to give voice to his suffering. They would never have the pleasure of knowing what pain they were causing him. Let them try all they wanted; he would only reward them with contemptuous silence. Yet the fact remained that they were killing him, slowly, and with a sick pleasure.

It seems there was no goodness left in the world, even in the supposedly goodly Fey people. What had he done to deserve such a hell? He grimaced and his eyebrows made a horrible scowl as the devilry was twisted again. Perhaps he did deserve this, his past way far from clean, but that was not what this punishment was for, this punishment was for the one thing he felt he had done right in his life, the one thing that was true and good, this was for his love.

Was he really delusional though? Was the Princess really better off without him? These over-zealous executioners belief in that was certainly enough to sway him to believe it was not the strangest idea on the planet. He had been a hopeless dreamer, that was all, and now he would pay the price for it. He would pay the price for being weak just like his father had said.

'Was Bulma even upset at this change in events?' he thought, beginning to be delirious through the pain, 'If she was upset she would be here wouldn't she? She would not allow this to happen, for she was a Valkyrie of all things.'

Although Vegeta wasn't perfectly clear on what that was he had seen her powers himself and knew no army could stop her, let alone simple palace guards. So where was she? As much as he hated the idea of having to be rescued, he hated the idea of being ripped apart by Fey executioners even more. His hair was matted and smeared with his own blood.

Bulma felt as if she was being torn apart, while Vegeta actually was.

Perhaps they had succeeded in changing her mind? He always felt that she never needed him as much as he needed her. She had a home and a family, and he shouldn't have ever tried to take that from her. Their bond was fresh, it might be easily broken, and she was a faerie after all. He knew of no other elf who had ever attempted to bond with a faerie so how could he assume the bond would be the same? After three days of this hell it seemed a tangible possibility in his pained mind that he had been indeed forgotten.

But even with this thought, he could not be angry with her. She was right to leave him behind; it would be folly not to. He had been the fool, a fool to believe he could have her in this world or any other. Maybe he should have killed her that day they met, but that thought twisted him more then the torture.

He loved Bulma. It was a fact he could never deny, even if that love did make him weak and led to his demise, it was worth it. It was worth every second of it, and he wouldn't change it for anything. They could take his life, it meant little to him anyway, but they could never take away his love. You are who you love, not who loves you, and he was grateful for what little time he had with her. Bitterly grateful yes, like someone who was allowed to taste the sweetest nectar only to be told they would never be able to have it again, but still grateful even if everything after that taste would mean nothing.

He was completely ready to give up when something old surged within him, something in the nature that had been beaten into him absolutely refused to be so dishonored by dying in the enemies' dungeon for an imaginary crime. He was a warrior, he was strong, he was ruthless.

Only now when he realized his love was gone did he begin to remember that with a fierceness that could never be contained.

Vegeta's heart turned bitter and his blood boiled. He would not die because he had been foolish enough to trust his heart with a faerie. He had to escape! Even if it was only to die trying, so be it, at least he would die on his own accord. Slowly but determinedly he wrenched his bloody torn hands from the binding cuffs and hurried to release the ones on his feet before the inquiring guard came.

Vegeta was able to ignore the pain with his adrenaline pumping and was free before the guards came to investigate the noise. By this time Vegeta was free and they were choked to death with the same chain that once held their prisoner captive.

The taste of death was sweet again to Vegeta and he felt the power of darkness flow through his veins once more. Not one of the guards made it out of that dungeon of sickly smelling blood alive. Only after the walls were painted red and nothing in his path was left breathing did Vegeta allow his pain to catch up with him. He reeled feeling very light headed from the loss of blood and weak from his tortured limbs.

'No not yet, I can't collapse here..'

He grimaced and continued his escape; freedom was too close for him to die now in these horridly close and unforgiving walls. The air that reached him when he crawled through a small window at ground level was refreshing and pure, giving him some small amount of peace to his troubled body, however, his departure held neither escape nor peace for his heart that had unfortunately resurfaced through his blood lust.

The moon came out and a shaft of its pale light spilled onto him. He lifted his nose and inhaled deeply as if gathering sustenance and conviction from the moonlight.

He would have liked to think that it was for the best as he turned to leave, but the raging pain in his heart forbid him to do so. Maybe he should go to her, but he couldn't. His heart was too full of farewells and it was better this way. It would seem she had no desire to see him anyway, lest she be tempted again.

You must understand the intolerable amount of pain Vegeta was in to make him think this way. Nothing was clear to him, all he had were bitter, pained, and misconstrued thoughts placed in his head by the executioners, and those horrible thought were warped into reality as he was tortured. It was the only thing that could've made him believe she did not want him anymore.

But moreover he now truly believed she was better off without him. She was a Valkyrie, and belonged with her people. He had to leave. He had to leave by himself. It was and always had been fate's design, inescapable. He could not trap Bulma into this, for it was obvious that he was not what she needed nor deserved. She deserved more then a future of rotting away with him in the corner of oblivion. He would not make her make that choice.

So he walked away, he walked away from the one place he wanted to be and every pace was torment. With a condemning finality his footsteps fell, and that singular sound echoed in his heart forever.

He turned stiffly and began to pace in silence down the long road, his future closing about him as he went. He walked steadily, without haste, looking straight in front of him and as he entered the forest, the look of endurance was already on him even when his heart was filled with a secret dread. What was there for him now?

Bulma's eyes fluttered open only to obstinately close again to escape the garish blinding light.

Was she dead?

The quick and acute pain that shot through her assured her otherwise. Other then that pain everything else was a blur of incomprehensible thought and feeling. Bulma took a deep breath and forced herself to open her eyes again and focus on the world around her. There were large white bandages on her wrists that were luridly stained red in places.

What were these wounds from?

Slowly, like a seeping tide, her memories came back to her with a groan and she sank down motionless in stony grief, lifeless as stone, and her heart like a stone within her. Only her silent tears flowed and would not stop. She thought maybe she would turn into a stone which forever, night and day, would be wet with tears. It was raining again, and the rain splashed in her heart and ran like sadness down the window into her soul. Why was she still cursed with life?

"Glad to see you're up," Chichi said cheerfully when she entered, not realizing her friend's crying at first because of its silent nature. Bulma was still crying, slowly and hopelessly for her wounds had weakened her.

Chichi sat beside her broken friend and stroked her hair comfortingly, waiting with wise patience for Bulma to find herself. It was something Chichi knew she couldn't do for her; she could only offer Bulma support. After a time Bulma's sobs reduced and then finally stopped, maybe only from lack of energy but at least now she could find her voice.

"Chi, what happened?"

"Well I heard the terrible fuss you were making and I got so dreadfully worried and went to look for you. When I found your door locked I went a little crazy I guess with fear, and well, I'm sorry, but I broke your door. It was only to save you though!"

Chichi's continued innocence was appalling. Bulma shook her head. Perhaps Chichi believed some monster had made these cuts on her wrists as well.

"I never thought I'd live to see you break down a door... I guess I almost didn't."

"You sound disappointed."

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Bulma, you have much to live for!"

"I have nothing. There is no point in me living if he does not," she spoke without emotion, as a person already dead.

"But-"

"No, Chi, no rationalizations. I know this in my heart. You have no idea what it is like in here. I'm sorry but you wasted your time saving me, I cannot stay here, I will die even without the aid of a knife."

"Do you really think he would want you to give up?"

"It is not about wanting Chi, I CAN'T. My heart has nothing left to beat for, it is too worn and ragged. It cannot keep up the day to day struggle of life without collapsing."

Bulma let out a miserable choke as her strength left her and she collapsed limply again, looking like death indeed had come upon her.

"Bulma... it kills me to see you like this," Chichi said in a quiet tone of disillusionment that made Bulma's heart clench tighter. Has she ruined Chichi too?

"Don't worry about me. Forget me all together, it is for the best."

"It is not for the best for anyone!"

"Well they should of though about that before they slaughtered the man I loved with everything I had!"

"Would if I had only known I would have stopped them. It was a poor choice and everyone regrets it Bulma, they do. But people make mistakes, and the past is the past, we must carry on with the present or the future will be nothing."

"Ha, a poor choice," Bulma seethed with ultimate bitterness, "What a wonderful way of putting it. If you only knew how the past could haunt you Chi you would not be so quick to say such things. Maybe if I was a plant change would be easy, because plants don't have memories. Memories you can't run away from."

"Your mother would change the past if she could. She hates herself for what she did, she just didn't know Bulma, she didn't know-"

"She is not my mother, and I hope she rots in seven hells for what she did whether she regrets it or not."

"Well killing yourself is not a way to punish her, it will accomplish nothing but adding to the chain of grief. Live well, that is the best revenge. Rise up and show the world that you will not be beaten!"

"But I don't know how. Don't you see? I became _nothing_ when I heard he was dead! I _am _nothing, an empty shell. And what do you think my life will do if not add too the chain? My past has proved that well enough, so why not death?"

Bulma looked desperately at Chichi with eyes that seemed to contain all the sadness of the world.

"No one can tell what the future holds."

"I do not care to ever find out."

"You have to!"

"Why?!" Bulma demanded angrily, tired of Chichi's insistence. Her words would not change anything. That caring, it will never come to any good, people wouldn't let it, it was simply not in their nature.

"Because Bulma... The doctors found something else when they were examining you. I wasn't supposed to tell you because you are in an "unstable" state or something, but I think you ought to know. You ought to know what you have to live for."

"Well," Bulma replied unenthusiastically, nothing could change her mind, "I'm waiting to be shocked."

But shocked she was.

"You're pregnant Bulma."

With that sentence reality crashed back around Bulma with a frightening blow that left her sitting simply absorbing this strange idea that she was actually capable of having a life with-in her. After all these years of barrenness…….how?

"Impossible," she stated, disbelief being the easiest and most reasonable path at the moment. She was barren, it must be some mistake, or maybe a trick to keep her alive, she thought bitterly.

"It's true Bulma. Can't you feel it? You are a Valkyrie, you may not look like it but it's still there in your heart. You will be able to tell, just concentrate... I should leave you to rest now, I trust you are stable enough be left alone. I believe in you Bulma, I always felt you could do anything."

At that she exited with a smile leaving a perplexed Princess behind to contemplate the new change in her life alone. Suddenly Bulma had no time to think of herself and her wish for death.

The most important question burned in her mind. Who was the father? She was aware of the amazing fact that she was pregnant now, for if she did concentrate she could feel it. But who? It couldn't be Yamcha's could it?

No...no.. that was impossible. She felt it. It was Vegeta's, it simply had to be. Somewhere inside her she knew, that night they bonded they had created something together, something no one could ever take away from her.

Her tears began to come again as she wrapped her arms securely around her stomach and began to rock slightly. She had a piece of him left; he wasn't gone from her completely. This child, this wondrous miracle of a child would be everything to her, her only beacon of light, her only hold on sanity. It was no hardship for her to live for his child, it was an honorable duty. Her most important duty in the world, and she would not fail. Both her love and the flowers were gone and never to come back, but she would have her child and that would be enough. She had a purpose again.

But living came with so many other problems and responsibilities.

'What would they do if they knew it was Vegeta's child?' Bulma though in a rush of panic. Surely the child would not receive the same fate as the father? She fell to actual tremors considering this and clutched her stomach tighter as she let out a violent sob of anger mixed with misery.

No. No. No. She would not fail.

But she had failed Vegeta. Who was she to think she could do it right with their child? What would she do? Leave? No, that would not be safe. Plus she didn't want her child, the heir to the kingdom, growing up worrying for his life in the harshness of the wild. Life was harsh enough already without adding to it. She wanted him to have the life she had never known. She wanted him to have everything, and she would sacrifice herself to do it.

She would marry Sir Yamcha and claim the child was his. As long as the child didn't have any too noticeable elvish qualities she could pull it off. It was what they wanted, wasn't it? How unfortunate, after such a fight she was still going to end up married to that cretin. Fate is not without a sense of humor.

Bulma sighed and her body relaxed at last. She was tired, so tired of fighting the undertow. It was time to let it take her out to sea for she had not been strong enough to overcome it. She just didn't want to see another tear shed. She was afraid, but not alone and she had the peace and trust in her heart that she would see Vegeta again in some other world. She couldn't hear his voice but she could feel his soul.

She was done with crying, she was done with pity, she was done with self- loathing. If her parents wanted a queen, then a queen they would get, and she would raise her child to be a wise a wonderful ruler who was strong enough to stand against the tide. He would be the grandest leader this world had even seen and he would unite it.

And he would be half of Vegeta.

She smiled at her day dream. She could almost picture him. Yes, it would be a him. With silver hair and blue eyes even brighter then hers. Yes, he would be everything she could not be. She placed a hand gently over her stomach and whispered.

"I love you, and I promise you will always know you are loved and that you are more important then the sun itself to me or all the stars in the sky. You are everything and no force on this planet will take you from me."

And thus the inertia of Bulma's life moved forward. The moon would rise and the sun would fall, but she would never forget.

AN: ok where does this leave us? Somewhere just left of insanity? LoL. Hope this chapter made things a little better. Don't worry its not over yet, there is still much in store for everyone. At least they are all still alive! Thanks for reading


	26. Chapter 25

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty Five

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty Five

Bulma paced about the cold room in yet another sleepless night. She hated being stuck out here away from all the action, but somehow her husband had convinced her that it would be the safest for Trunks. Silly thing actually believed Trunks was his child, Bulma had managed that much, and although he was no outstanding father (Yamcha was hardly outstanding at anything) he showed the proper care for the child's welfare. She wondered if he would have shown the same concern had he known the true fraternal origins of the child.

It was the March ten years after the birth of Bulma's only joy and the first of the plum blossoms were scattered on the black grass before dawn in the country palace of the royal Fey, far to the northwest of the kingdom. The sycamore, the lime, and the tall pine trees inhaled the first pale hints of sky, waking yet another iron day.

The dazzling light would soon come, rising from the bellies of leaves and pouring down the cups of burning poppies. A nightingale squawked from his perch, welcoming the new day. The wind seemed to sigh through the meadow, barely even causing a tremor in the delicate petals of hundreds of various wildflowers, all equally brilliant and fragrant in the early air.

It was incredible how peaceful nature could be even when there was such tumult in the world around it. The feud between the Fey and the Elves that had once lain dormant was now in an all out uproar that had been continuously rising and swelling like a gathering storm since the death of Volsung. Despite Bulma's efforts to maintain some fragment of peace, it had become an unstoppable beast, and now she was tired and shut away for the royal families safety because things were quickly growing out of hand.

Bulma sighed. Ten years. Ten long years. The summers had died one by one; they flew quickly on in the flow of life. There had been the incredible happiness of watching her son grow and flourish, but nothing could completely heal the tear in her soul that made itself painfully obvious on lonely mornings like these.

The stars and her family had often aligned to make her life miserable. By simple spiteful determination had Bulma escaped her mother's attempts to make her a "fine" lady- dumb, docile, and complacent. That beast of a mother always roared especially ugly roars. Bulma never seemed to please her; though it was true she never tried. Bulma hated her still for what she had done. They simply never spoke anymore. Trunks would visit his grandmother every now and then, but his mother would never accompany him. He never asked why.

The sun shone, but weakly, as if it held a grudge. Bulma noticed how hard, cold and shut up the ground was. Sometimes she wished it would just open up and take her in she felt so bad, but it seemed as if she did suddenly drop dead from despair even the ground would refuse her.

Yet without fail, every time in her darkest hour, the thought of her son, Vegeta's son, gave her the strength to go on. He was all that was good in her life; all that was worth living for. She would be the best mother for him that she could possibly be. She would hide the wounded side of her heart from him in a hope that he would never have to know pain like that.

A late frost threw the morning light upward into the chamber, shining on the ceiling more then the floor, so as to alter the usual shadows. They were blue, and in the wrong places. The great lady was sewing, sitting rather formally in the high chair; she stitched with the half blank mind of a needlewoman, the other half of her brain moving idly among her troubles.

She wished she was not in this dismal castle. It was too near to the north, to far away from the securities of civilization. She wanted to be in the center of activity where her mind would be busy and not left to wander over the dreary expanse; away for her 'safety' in this time of upheaval. To be put differently, she was simply shoved out of the way.

Bulma let out a small growl as this thought came upon her and her stitching was ripped. She'd show them who was easy to get rid of! But with a sigh she calmed herself. She mustn't be so quick to jump to conspiracy. Sometimes things were exactly what they seemed.

Yamcha was not so horrible a husband. She was sure there could have been worse. He allotted her proper freedom and power and was often quiet understanding. It hadn't all been peaches and cream, but they had learned to survive. They _had_ to learn so to keep their people safe. They had worked together over the years to fight against the powers that would have all Fey destroyed, for it was what was required of them in such desperate times. That was why Bulma had married him, for that and for the safety of her child. They had to think it was his, or…..or…… she didn't want to think what might have happened to him. It is amazing what a mother is willing to give up for her child.

Much of this surviving was due to Bulma's new acceptance; a state of being her aging had brought her. There is a thing called knowledge of the world which is a thing that cannot be taught, because it is not logical and does not obey the laws which are constant.

It has no rules. You cannot teach a baby to walk by explaining the matter logically, it must learn by experience. Such is this seventh sense of knowledge. You must be left to experience the years, and then, when you are beginning to hate your used body, you suddenly find you can do it. You can go on living-not by principle, not by deduction, not by knowledge of good and evil, but simply by a peculiar shifting sense of balance which defies each of these things often.

You no longer hope to live seeking truth, but continue henceforth under the guidance of this seventh sense. Balance was the sixth; knowledge of the world is the seventh.

The discovery is not a matter of triumph, we only carry this knowledge with us, riding the queer waves in a habitual, petrifying way, because we have reached a stage of deadlock and can think of nothing else to do. We begin to forget, as we go stolidly balancing along, that there could have been a time when we were young bodies flaming with the impetus of life. It is hardly consoling to remember such a feeling, and so it deadens our minds.

But there was a time when each of us stood naked before the world, confronting life as a serious problem with which we were intimately and passionately concerned. There was a time when we wondered with all our souls what the world was, what love was, what we were ourselves.

All these problems and feelings fade away when we get the seventh sense. The seventh sense indeed slowly kills all the other ones, so that at last there is no trouble. We cannot see anymore, or feel, or hear about what we once sought. The bodies we loved, the truths we hunted, the gods we questioned: we are deaf and blind to them now, safely and automatically balancing along to an inevitable grave under the protection of our last sense.

This is the best explanation for Bulma's growth over that decade. She had lost the passion of her youth, and the reasons to be upset slowly faded away into monotony. The chaos of her mind and body that had once afflicted her had slipped away. The time for weeping at sunsets and at the glamour of the moonlight, the confusion and profusion of beliefs and hopes-in god, truth, love, and eternity- the ability to be transported by the beauty of physical objects, a heart to ache or swell at a joy so joyful and a sorrow so sorrowful that oceans could lie between, that time was over.

Yet the broad and uncertain lines that defined her character still remained, dulled, but still present. Change is not a choice. It happens to you, and you are different. The only thing you can do as a human, is lie about it, and Bulma was never much for deceit.

Bulma's hand danced in the memory of a million vanished stars. The years had made her stronger, wiser, harder. She was no longer the weeping girl she had been, but a stalwart matron with an icy unshakeable disposition. She had become a grand Queen.

Bulma always knew that there wasn't glue strong enough to hold her roots together and now that she'd wasted too many years, she'd lost track of where she started. She had to dream of who she was as a girl and why after 30 years, they said she is what is left. Bulma had often said she would like to go back there, so she could scream to the world, and be a brick so she wouldn't feel. She'd lift herself up, she'd throw herself at that house, break windows smash walls, just to keep time where it was and where it should be.

She had never hidden from her past, a past that was her own and over which she had the final say. There was many a time when all she wished was to change it, to be a baby again, to be new, and to have a fresh life.

But there was always the damned reality. You can't change the past. And it is the families not the lovers that rot the mind. It is that which condemns the tragic character to his walking death. The heart of tragedy does not lie in stealing or taking away, it lies in giving in, in putting on, in adding, in smothering without pillows.

Being robbed of life or honor is nothing to these people who have been robbed of themselves- their soul stolen, overlaid, wizened, while the family lives in triumph, superfluously and with stifling love endowed on them, seemingly innocent of ill-intention. They existed in them like a vampire. When they moved, they do it with the family's movement. They are lost and unreal. They are acting, reading from a script.

Higher in the sky the sun rose, the great wheel of life spinning in the heavens, fruitlessly speeding after her divine consort, the dark son. Bulma had been betrayed. She had been wronged. She had lived through a black and cold time. But she had lived all the same.

Her thoughts wandered and came back to the name that it always came back to.

Vegeta.

Never having been a high-handed or demanding person, Bulma had been able to make a little go a long way, his memory consoled her aching heart, but Gods how she missed him. Ten years and she was still pining. It was a need you never get used to, so fierce and so confused, and it was a loss you never get over. She lived in a quiet sorrow, knowing she would never have a love like she had with Vegeta.

Her marriage was one of convenience, and there was little or no affection between them. Peace and respect, yes, maybe lust on Yamcha's side, but never love.

Bulma had given in long ago, deciding not to tack against the wind. She did not mope for Vegeta, nor did she weep for him upon her pillow. She did not allow herself to think openly of him, for if she did she would break apart.

He had worn a place for himself in the corner of her heart, like a sea shell, always booring against a rock might do. The making of the place had been the pain, but now the shell was safely lodged and ground not longer.

The silence of the gloomy room was broken with a yawn, and Bulma turned her head to see her pride and joy, her son, with lilac hair so fair that it almost seemed to capture some of the white radiance of the Valkyrie part of his mother.

A smile was immediately on her sorrowful face, and her headache lifted. If only the world could maintain his beautiful innocence, then there would be no such thing as war.

Luck was with them in his birth. He had all the features of a Faerie so he could pass as Yamcha's son. Trunks was a water spirit like Bulma, with big bright blue eyes that stately observed everyone from a distance. Even as a small child he seemed more mature and intelligent then all the other youths. He could empty you with those eyes. Make you feel nothing more a speck, or the most important thing in the universe. The mysterious force that kept the cosmos moving.

Bulma knew he had gotten that from his real father.

Another thing he had gotten from his father was his sharply pointed ears. This posed a definite problem for that feature was certainly applicable to an Elvish nature, but this was solved as simply as a hair style. Bulma kept his hair just long enough to cover his ears, hiding his secret.

Trunks never understood exactly why he had to always keep his ears covered and never let anyone see them, but he was an obedient child when it came to the desires of his mother. His silence couldn't last forever though, for he was extremely astute and soon his questions were too close to the truth. Bulma could never quite bring herself to tell him the truth, maybe he was old enough now, maybe soon...

Yamcha and Trunks had never been that close, not as a father and son should be. Although they were loving to each other, and Yamcha would not hesitate in the slightest when it came to the boy's welfare, she often wondered if some part of him knew that Trunks was not his child. Whatever the distance was, Trunks was definitely his mother's child, and no one questioned that.

Trunks had been beautifully brought up. In him all of Bulma's failures turned into successes, such was the perfection of the child she had raised. As close to a perfect being as one could be. He had been protected by love. The effect of such a youth was that he grew without the hard accomplishments of living- without malice, vanity, suspicion, cruelty, or selfishness, and jealousy to him seemed the most ignoble of vices.

He had lived his entire life in love, trust, and respect. He was after all the heir to the kingdom, and a fine one at that. No one dared question his lineage or shed light to the strange events surrounding his existence, but dear grandmother Harmonia had done a wonderful job of hushing things up as well.

Yet despite his shroud of love, his being a prince and the whispers of controversy had left him on the alienated side of society, though he was still too young to think much of it. He did, though, want everyone to love him, and it weighted upon his pure heart when they did not.

Bulma smiled, he was such a wonderful person they would be able to do nothing but love him, and he would be the greatest leader they had ever seen.

"Come here Trunks. You are such a lonely child, how pensive, how aloof you seem to me. Tell me what is bothering you my love?"

"You know I'm fine mother," Trunks answered in a voice beyond his years.

"Yes you are always fine, but I want you to be more then fine," Bulma said smiling and pulling him onto her lap.

"Mom, why are my ears different from everyone else's? I need you to tell me," He said bluntly when he was situated, his eyes serious and contemplative. Bulma's brow furrowed under his questioning gaze.

"I guess you are incisive enough to know the truth, and you deserve to," she started slowly, not knowing how to tell him the story of his origin, and wondering if she should. How would he react? Bulma didn't want to cause him pain or confusion, but it seemed he had that affliction anyway, and he did deserve to know his true father. Vegeta deserved it as well. With a sigh Bulma closed her eyes and continued, "……..A long time ago your mother fell in love with an Elf and his name was Vegeta."

"Really, My father was an elf?" Trunks interrupted immediately, with eyes wide and bright, "That is awesome! I knew that Yamcha guy couldn't be my father."

Bulma stared at her son in shock for a moment. Was she that transparent? But she couldn't help smiling again despite herself, and let out a small laugh. Only Trunks would be overjoyed at the fact that his father was an Elf. Most would have been horrified and ashamed, but not Trunks. Obviously the poison of the world had not reached him, nor did Bulma intend to ever let it.

"So what happened?"

Bulma's smile faded and she felt her grief afresh. To talk about it she had to think about it. She tried to keep herself under control as silent tears traced their way down her cheeks. They were not tears of passion, but tears of time. They had worn grooves in her face.

"Well Trunks, although we loved each other very much it was not proper for us to be together in the eyes of the world and... unfortunately…… he…..he was killed before you were even born."

Trunks said no words, he knew words would not change or help his mother's pain so he simply conveyed with his eyes and his embrace the condolence he felt. Bulma began babbling the story out to him, she had never said these things aloud and the words felt strange on her lips. Of course the story had to be edited somewhat, for even though Trunks seemed older he was only ten.

"I would have warned him, but it is difficult to say things in plain English without hurting people. I was a fool too, I didn't want to be conscious of it. I hoped that if only I was not quite conscious of everything, it would come straight in the end. Do you think it was my fault? Do you think I could have saved him if I had done something else? Saved us?"

"You did all you could."

"When I was young I did something horrible, and from it had sprung the misery of my life. Do you think you can stop the consequences of a bad action, by doing good ones afterwards? I don't know. I tried to stopper it down, but it went on in widening circles. It will not be stopped. Maybe this war is a consequence too. It is my fault. I am weak, I could have done something. I could have left with him. But it is too late for that now, too late for everything. You always can see your mistakes so clearly afterwards. "

"Mother don't talk like this, you have done all you ever could, you are a beautiful person. It seems to me the thing that needs to be done is that someone needs to change the eyes of the world."

Bulma stared wondering at this child in her hands. Just a child, but he had said something so simple, yet so right on, it shook her core. Yes. Someone needed to change the eyes of the world. But who?

"Now there I go fretting you with my rambling," she said shaking her head, "Go, a child your age should be out in the sunshine and fresh air, not inside with your borderline psychotic mother. We'll talk more later and I promise I will tell you anything you want to know about your father, but now go. Go play," Bulma said giving him a kiss on the forehead and shooing him towards the door.

"Don't worry mom, we'll always have each other," Trunks said pausing in the entryway and looking thoughtful, "It sucks I didn't get to know him though."

"Yes dear," Bulma said with a pale smile, like the gleam of cold sun on a winters evening, "It does suck."

AN: Some big jumps happening aroundabouts, so hope you like! Thanks always


	27. Chapter 26

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty-Six

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty-Six

Trunks ran with the energy and exuberance of youth out into the welcoming world. The frost had just begun to melt so everything looked as though it were made of glittering crystals.

He spun through the forest trying to catch the falling leaves in a case. This was a game played by Fey children, for it was said that if you caught a leaf before it hit the ground you would have a month of good luck.

Trunks had not gone out with that intention, and did not really, even in those distant days, believe the good luck tale, only, as Zephyr the west wind tore the golden rags away they looked fascinating and difficult to catch.

He was there for the mere sport of catching them, of shouting and laughing and feeling giddy as he looked up, and darting about to trap the creatures, which were certainly alive in the cunning with which they slipped away. He pranced about like a young fawn in the ruin of the year.

His game led him farther and farther away from home in widening circles that had no pattern nor design and no purpose other that to continue the wonderful state where thoughts were banished and replaced only by feeling, by peace. For if there was one thing the young prince was, it was peaceful. Peaceful in a way that defied and confounded everything, including his own nature, leaving him shining alone like a beacon in a world of hate.

It was this that allowed him to think of the strange new development in his life with an even head. He was very curious about his father, but he felt no terrible unrest that he had spent his life thus far thinking a different man was his father. It seemed to him he always knew somehow. He did wish to know his true father though, and strangely, perhaps it was passed to him through his mother, he loved the man.

Such was the power of his mother's love. Their bond was something infinitely rare and precious in its openness, they knew how much they needed each other and had no problem showing it. There is some strange bond that exists between every parent and child whether they like it or not, but it is often buried and hardly ever brought to the surface in all its intensity, for that bond is the deepest and hardest to break of all. It is always there, pounding in your blood, that strange power that binds.

Trunks finally tired of his game and looked about him, taking in his surroundings for the first time and realizing he was nowhere near home. But he was a very bright child and he had no fear about not being able to find his way. His senses always were keener then the others, now he was able to assume that too was from his father.

His palpable young mind, inquisitive and expanding, was eager to explore this new area, and even more intriguing was the noise of laughter that suddenly sounded in the distance.

In a few moments Trunks had found the source of the noise to be a strange group of children meandering their way through the trees, conspiring intently about some wonderfully exciting secret.

There was an elvish boy about his age that seemed to be the leader of the group with a slightly younger nymph girl and a creature that looked as if it was half-fox half-child with a plume of a tail and twitching ears.

"Hello!" Trunks called enthusiastically and, perhaps, a tad too loud for the conspirators who were still unaware that they were not alone.

"On guard! We are being attacked!" shouted the elf boy, flinging what looked like a makeshift wooden sword around wildly at this new invisible attacker. This in turn caused the girl to scream, unfortunately high pitched for a nymphs shriek can disorient and sometime deafen their attackers, and the fox child ran around in a confused excitement.

"No, no, I'm not an attacker, don't worry," Trunks said stepping into view, distressed at the uproar her had caused.

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place, you mad faerie," said the boy, still skeptical and cautious.

"I'm sorry, you hardly gave me a chance, but my name is Trunks and I really mean you no harm. I was thinking mayhap I could tag along with you? My family is visiting this area and I don't really know my way about yet," Trunks replied politely, ignoring the rude remark. He had found the best way to deal with unkindness, is to return with kindness. It is hard to turn your back on that.

The elf boy put his hand to his chin thoughtfully pondering this request with the ultimate gravity, while the fox boy came and introduced himself as Shippo and the girl stared at him with inquisitive eyes.

"Well, I suppose there is no reason why you can't," the elf finally concluded for he was young enough not to have had his mind spoiled with the hate of the world, "And we need a new member anyway because Madania is gonna have to go home and write in her silly journal and do other girly things," he said in a jesting tone indicating to the nymph.

"Yeah right Zetes! If my mother thinks writing in a journal will help me grow less childish and more learned then she will have to write it, for I will do it no longer. And I will not spin. And I will not eat. Less childish indeed. I want to see the monster, and I will."

"Mad, you weren't supposed to say! It was a secret," Zetes said indignantly, bonking her on the head while Shippo looked between the two worriedly.

"Stop it you big butt-head! You just said he could be in our group didn't you?" Madania yelled back, angry at her undeserved punishment.

"Oh yeah, I did huh," Zetes said putting his hand behind his head and letting out a nervous laugh, only to receive a smack on the head from a still raging nymph.

"Come on you guys don't fight!" Shippo whined.

And Trunks couldn't help but laugh at their spectacle, and that of course threw them all off so they forgot their previous wrongdoings to inspect him quizzically.

"A monster, huh? That sounds exciting. And don't worry, you secret's safe with me."

"Alright," Zetes said after eyeing him scrupulously for a moment, But you have to officially swear your allegiance on my sword, that way it's for sure. And know this, if you break this solemn oath, it is my right and duty to kill you immediately," he said with the showy graveness that only children can pull off.

"I swear it," Trunks said willingly complying and feeling the intense emotions of youth.

"Now we all spit in the middle."

This of course brought a new round of laughs and a spitting contest as Trunks was accepted into their gang.

"Ok, let's get on with it; we can't be caught by him at night you know. You better be brave Trunks, this is not child's play."

"I'm brave!" Trunks contested, puffing out his chest and moving forward to walk next to Zetes in the lead.

"Yeah, yeah, but even brave people don't mess with this monster. He only comes out at night so he can sneak up on the villages to pillage them and they say he has fire for eyes and big ole claws that he uses to gut people with. He can do it in one sweep, swoosh, and all your insides are now your outsides. No one who has ever gone to stop him has come back the same. Most don't come back at all, but the ones that do are so scared that they can barely sleep at night," Shippo explained in a hurry.

"Um, remind me why we are doing this?" Madania cried.

"Because we are the badest gang ever. I told you you should have gone home Mad," Zetes said confidentially. Trunks noted how excellent he was at being a leader, at taking charge.

"Yea, ya silly girl!" Shippo said, pushing Madania over the edge, causing her in turn to push him on to the ground.

"I am NOT a silly girl! I bet I'm braver the all of you put together! It's all just show with you," She yelled as she pushed past the other two to take the lead.

Zetes and Trunks looked at each other with raised eye brows then burst into uproarious laughter that only irked Madania further stomping ahead, especially when Shippo joined in.

Amid the breeze, the shouting, and the slanting sunlight on the mountain, was shed that glamour, that strange invisible light of friendship, adventure, and content.

"Maybe this is just too much," Zetes said smiling in his sarcasm.

"Not for all of us," Trunks said grinning back as they, joined in their effort, continued up the mountain.

"Hey you have pointed ears like Zetes," Shippo suddenly noticed, for Trunks in his comradery had forgotten to keep them covered. He felt his gut lurch with the subliminal built in fear at the discovery of his secret, but soon his mind deducted that his new friend posed no threat in knowing this.

"Yah he does! That's weird, is it like, a deformity?" Zetes asked with a jesting giggle.

"No," Trunks demanded at first in defiance, then added proudly, "My father was an Elf."

"Really?" Zetes said slowly as if trying to decide if such a thing was even possible, for it was certainly unheard of.

"I didn't think that ever happened," Madania added.

"I guess I'm just a one of a kind then," Trunks said simply with a smile, but with no vanity. He was simply him, and the idea that that was strange was incomprehensible for him. Why should he be any different from anyone else, elf or faerie? Was there some great line between the two? He had seen none, so it made no sense why he would be different as a mix of two things that were nearly identical inside.

"Cool, I guess we are like kinda related then," Zetes said with a grin and clapping his hand around his new friend shoulder, Trunks' demeanor of nonchalance infectious.

This temporary lack of concentration caused them to ungracefully stumble into Shippo and Madania who had abruptly stopped in front of them.

"We're here," Shippo whispered with fearful severity at the gaping mouth of the dark ominous cave mouth that loomed about 20 feet in front of them.

"Well," Zetes said with his humor and bravado draining fast, "What now?"

"Are we supposed to go in?" Trunks inquired eyeing the cave carefully.

"No way, I'm NOT going in there. I'm not suicidal," Madania said quickly quite comfortable with staying at this distance.

"I think I'm with Mad on this one," Shippo agreed with a worried look about him.

"We came all this way, we have to go in," Zetes said but his worlds held more conviction then his tone.

"Then you go first," Madania demanded, noticing the façade of boldness.

"I'll go," Trunks volunteered deciding there was nothing too deadly about and before anyone could object he marched forward before he changed his mind.

The others slowly followed, almost breathless in their silence, only the chirping rustles of the forest could be heard as they came upon the monstrous threshold.

"Should we?" Zetes whispered under his breath, leaving the question to hang in the air and the minds of his three comrades as they considered it with the ultimate gravity as the tense air enshrouded them with an almost suffocating intensity.

The question was answered for them with a frightening rush of air and a terrible thunderous rumbling as if the world was imploding upon itself.

The beast was upon them in a flood of deadly fury.

And the tension was cut with a snap as the whole group burst into mindless ear piercing screams and they fled as a pure adrenaline reaction in every direction, not really knowing or seeing only moving with a fierce passion to ensure the continuation of their lives not yet long enough lived enough to forfeit.

None of them had time or the level headedness to consider the fact that they hadn't actually seen the beast, for the tales of horror put vivid images of dreadfulness in their heads and that was more then enough to convince them to flee with hands flailing and voices screeching as the shadow rushed at them wildly.

In the frenzied confusion of the retreat Trunks tripped or was knocked to the ground, hindering his escape dearly. Once he fell he lost all ability to move as he was frozen with fear, certain the end was nigh and he would be the dinner of this horrid beast. He winced as he heard a sharp laugh dripping with malice that seemed to promise just that.

AN: Oooo no, what has Trunks gotten himself into? Is this really going to be the end of Bulma's child and her last hold on sanity? What is this beast that has Trunks in his grasp and more importantly, is it hungry? Thanks for reading! Please review


	28. Chapter 27

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty-Seven

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty-Seven

Trunks felt a strong grasp enclose about the collar of his shirt and he was hoisted, with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, far into the air with absolutely no mildness. He began kicking and struggling madly when he became unfrozen at the fact that this really could be the end, and his heart was pounding like a heard of wild horses in his chest.

But the hand did not falter in its death grip.

"No please, I'm too young too die. You don't want to eat me anyway, I'm all bony and gross I swear! I tried eating myself once and-"

"Hush boy, I'm not going to eat you, that's disgusting. Now get a hold of yourself and stop being such a weakling. It's pathetic."

Outraged and shocked at such an admission, especially from a beast, Trunks forgot his fear and his eyes flew open with an intention of turning his efforts toward hitting his captor. Only then did he realize that it was no beast that held him at all, at least outwardly anyway.

It was a man, an elf more precisely, with pitch black upswept hair. He was obviously very strong, and had the build of a warrior, and there were many scars riddled along hid face and body from years of harsh living. There was a mildness, however, in his eyes that proclaimed no devil and Trunks was not longer afraid, only curious. In fact, it seemed most ridiculous to be afraid of this man for some reason, and Trunks felt foolish for the previous hysterics even when this man was certainly as dangerous as any beast.

"There is no beast," Trunks said as more of a revelation then a question.

"You aren't afraid of me?" the man said, his voice deep and rich and slightly disappointed.

"Why should I be?"

"Most people are," he replied as if it were ludicrous for someone not to be scared to death of his presence.

"Well I'm not," Trunks simply stated, with no intent of boasting.

"Confident little thing. You know, confidence can be deadly," the elf said with a smirk as he slowly released his prey, knowing he would never hurt a child. Again.

There was something else though, something he admired in this boy, something that intrigued him. He had little to no contact with other beings in the last 10 years, for he was completely withdrawn into absolute solitude. It was the only place that was safe for his broken heart. As far as he could get from any memory of her, any whisper of news.

He lived in a silent misery that could hardly be called life, but time has a way of dulling things and he had become accustomed to life again. People have an amazing resilience that gives them the ability to adapt, even after times when they are sure there is no way to go on, life finds a way. We can take much more then we believe.

This is not to say he was happy, nay happiness was something that had not graced him with its warmth, he was more…… neutral so to say. Incomplete. An empty shell. Inside there was a cavern begging to be filled, but never able. He missed her every moment, for against his best hopes he was not unfeeling. It's natural to want to be loved. But that loss was so constant it simply became a part of him, a shadowed corner that never quite got sun, even at noontime.

Love. Why was there ever a thing called love? That incomprehensible feeling? That feeling that hurts and yet, you yearn for? He should have never learnt about it.

He was in a purgatory, a lingering state of the torment of existence weighed against the horror of non-being.

The people of the nearby towns had even begun a myth about him being a horrible beast of sorts, and they cursed him and the havoc he wreaked. It was nothing new for him, he had be called a beast many a time before, but was somewhat amusing to have such an infamous reputation, especially with the wide eyed children. They were refreshing because they had not yet been jaded and embittered by the world, perhaps that was why it was so fun to scare them witless.

This incorrigible Fey child before him though was different…..

"Why do you scare people?" Trunks asked as if reading the man's thoughts.

"Because I can. And you deserve it for snooping around here, anyway, isn't that what you came here looking for? A good scare?" Vegeta turned his back on the boy hoping it would take a hint and leave, but noooo.

"Wow this is a neat place you have here," it said following him like a dog.

"I think you should go home kid. This is no place for you."

"Do you live alone?" Trunks continued ignoring the demand.

"I said get out, you nosy brat. I enjoy living alone and that is exactly the way I want to keep it," he growled, being sure this was blunt enough for the kid to get it before he had to throw him down the hill.

"How can you like living alone? Even in such a cool hideout as this….."

Vegeta twitched and observed the boy with a strained, thread-bare attention. It was long since he had seen youth's innocence and certainty. 'This kid must be unfathomably stupid or a masochist.'

He obviously wasn't getting rid of this annoyance anytime soon, so decided to at least throw off its questions with one of his own, mentally cursing himself for feeling it wrong to be violent towards this child.

"How old are you?"

"I'll be eleven in February."

"And you are up here challenging beasts?"

"I am not a child."

"Of course not," Vegeta said with a side of sarcasm, but no surprise.

"I should want to fight in the war, but my mother won't let me. She says it is wrong."

"She is a wise woman."

"I would like to defend my people."

"What if you were killed?"

"Then I would be dead."

"And how would that make your Mother feel? I suggest you leave the worries of war to those much more wizened then yourself," Vegeta said wondering why a child of his age had such intense thoughts..

"I know war is wrong, it is not that I want to fight or die, I just want to...to end the fighting. It would be nice to end fighting without fighting in return, but…… that is where I get stuck."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. Few children would have formulated such a thought, and he found himself curious about who his parents were.

"What's your name?"

"Trunks. What's yours?"

"Oogly the Boogie Man. Now don't you have something better to do the sit here and talk with the 'beastie'?"

"I don't think you're a beast, we could be friends!" Trunks replied with the questionless acceptance of youth.

"Well you're the first... almost," Vegeta snuffed looking sideways at the boy curiously. Those eyes. Those fathomless blue eyes…… There was something so familiar about them... it unnerved him.

"You are probably just misunderstood. I bet if you went and talked to the people, they would see you were a really cool guy and they wouldn't be afraid of you any more and maybe they would hire you as a body guard or something, cuz I bet you're real strong."

"Is the world that simple for you kid?"

"The world is as simple as you make it. My mom says you have to find something you are passionate about and then focus on just that one thing and it whittles the world down to a more manageable size."

'That sounds like what I've been doing the past 10 years,' Vegeta thought dejectedly.

"Where is your mom? Don't you have a family?" Trunks asked innocently.

Vegeta winced slightly.

"I have no family. Not everyone is as lucky as you kid."

"No way! That's not cool. It's settled then. You have to come to dinner with me. My mom has been a little sad lately and some company will cheer her up. Oh, and she makes the best cider. She swears it is because she always includes a number of rotten apples in the mix, isn't that weird? I wonder if that could be true about people - if the world needs a few rotten people to make the sweetest mix. That would explain the problem of the Gods allowing evil in the world."

"No, no, no. No way kid. I'm not the kind of dinner guest you take home to a Fey household. Trust me, your Mother would be very _unpleased_ with both of us," Vegeta said still amazed at the child's open acceptance.

"My mom wouldn't care! She's cool, she doesn't hate Elves like most Fearies do. And come on, I mean when's the last time you got out of this cave man, be honest?" Trunks giggled, "Oh man, is that a bow? That's a wicked one! I try to use one but I haven't gotten very good at it cuz no one else likes archery very much."

"Faeries usually don't."

"Well I do, so you gotta show me! Pleeeaaase? Come on it will be fun! If you don't want to go to dinner then at least you can show me a few moves, I bet you know tons!" Trunks chattered excitedly while Vegeta found himself looking for an exit before he realized it was HIS dwelling and he shouldn't have to run away from it.

"Why do you want to be better at archery?"

"I'm not sure. I've always been interested in it….Well?" Trunks asked expectantly.

"Well what?"

"Are you going to show me how to get better?"

"No."

Trunks made a frustrated growling sound and scrunched his eye brown trying to conceive of any diplomatic way to solve this situation of displeasure. He couldn't so he did the next most expedient thing. He borrowed Vegeta's bow himself. And he ran.

"What the hell do you think you are doing you little brat!" Vegeta yelled as he took up the chase, appalled that the kid would have the gal to steal HIS bow.

Trunks was surprisingly fast for his age so it took Vegeta longer then expected to catch him, but catch him he did, and he was in such a fury that tearing the kids head off looked like a pretty good option.

"Oh, you are gonna wish you were never born you spawn of Satan," he growled as he tore the bow from the child with one hand and with the other he heaved him into the air to shake him.

But Vegeta stopped sunddely when his eye caught sight of something very curious he hadn't seen before. The Fey child had Elf ears.

'Oh thank the gods he stopped,' Trunks thought cringing in silent fear cursing his plan gone terribly wrong.

"You have Elvish ears?"

Trunks eyes popped open and his heart sighed with relief realizing his would be murderer had been distracted.

"Uh yeah, my dad was an elf."

"Really...?," Vegeta said slowly a lump immediately forming in his stomach for some reason. Those eyes...

"Yea, my mom went through this whole ordeal when she was young that made her get that tired look, ya know? It sucks that the world is so dumb and now I'll never get to know my dad cuz he got killed. That's why I know she would be cool with having you come to dinner, cuz she was in love with an Elf once, so she doesn't have all that discrimination, ya know."

"What...what's your mother's name?" Vegeta choked out not really knowing if he wanted to know the answer or if he was ready, horrified of the change it would make. The lump in his stomach was growing exponentially with every second.

"My mom is Queen Bulma Pendragon."

Vegeta's eyes widened a fraction and he simple gaped. His heart stopped, then began to flip and pound erratically, so much so he though he might die…… No…..it was impossible, wasn't it? He was shocked; shaken to the core, and the first emotion he could hold onto out of the rush of a thousand, was disbelief. He was unable... unable to grasp…..

Could he really be this child's father?

A child he had never seen before. Those eyes...those eyes were Bulma's... His father was an Elf….. what else could it be?

A hundred questions bombarded Vegeta's mind as his turmoil and shock reached its pinnacle. It was just too much...too long. He couldn't breathe!

"Uh dude, are you alright?" Trunks said confused by this rapid transformation of his captor.

"What? Oh, I'm fine," Vegeta said setting the child, his child down, with much more finesse then before. He couldn't stop from shaking though. It was all too much, after all these years of feeling nothing, it all came back with a frightening rush. His world was turned upside down. He didn't know what to say, what to do, even with so many questions……..

"Did, do you know if your mother... misses your father...at all?" He began unsteadily, this was all such strange new territory, and he had no idea how to navigate through it without breaking into a million pieces.

"Are you kidding? Every day! I think she blames herself for his death, but that is ridiculous because she didn't know. I can see in her eyes that she loved him a lot, she still loves him, and I wish there was something I could do to take that pain away, even though she says I already help more then I'll ever know."

Vegeta gulped and squeezed his eyes shut trying to keep his head. He could hear his heart slamming madly against the confines of his chest.

Was it all...was it all just a mistake? Should he have stayed? Was the last 10 years of torment for nothing!? He hated that thought, that it could everything be solved that simply after all the times he had been in pain wishing for it to be different. The years had muddled the memory of that night, of the incredible pain that forced him to make his decision to leave, to let her have a better life…. He couldn't remember those feelings exactly now, and what had caused him to flee into obscurity.

But it had to of been the right choice, Vegeta realized looking at the beautiful child in front of him. There was no way if Bulma had fled with him that Trunks would have turned out to be such. His life would have been very different, harsh, and cold. He would not have the same innocence and purity that he had. It was right for both of them. Bulma might not have the happiest heart because of it, but she was safe, and able to raise her child the best anyone ever could.

But what to do now? Should he still leave them alone? Was that really the best choice now? The child had said Bulma was still in pain, wasn't it his duty to try and take that away? More then duty was his selfish desire. The thought of seeing her again filled him with an incredible love and hope. Gods he loved her just as much as the day they had parted!

She thought he was dead, and maybe it was still the best that she thought that. She was Queen after all and making her way without him, where would he fit in? She should hate him for causing her such pain. He would be a burden as he always was. An enemy.

And how would Trunks like him bursting in all of a sudden as his 'father.' How could he assume to ask him to accept him? A ghost, a murderer, an abandoner? As much as he wanted to know his child would it be too much for him to have his mystery father come back from the grave?

Vegeta sighed. Too many questions with no answer. He felt very tired all of a sudden. He could close his eyes and still know every lash of her eyelids, every pore of her skin, every note of her voice, and every articulation of her smile.

"Are you crying?" Trunks said in a confused shock.

Again Vegeta's eyes snapped open and back to an all too real reality. Why couldn't every thing be fantasy? What was so wrong with that?

"Of course not, I just...I just got some dust in my eye."

"Riiiight," Trunks replied incredulously, but his mind was quick and the world was not as complicated to his mind as it was to others. He put the pieces together, "You…… an Elf……. Are you…..are you my father? How? My mother thinks your dead!"

It seemed the choice had been made for Vegeta. Even if he tried to deny it he had a feeling this child wouldn't take no for an answer.

They regarded each other silently for a moment not knowing what to do next. Vegeta looked at Trunks. Really looked at him. His son. He could see resemblances in his brow, and his lips, and of course, his ears.

"Wow," Trunks finally sighed, breaking the silence, "What a crazy day! I mean, Wow. I don't even know how to process it all."

"Yeah I know the feeling," Vegeta said softly.

"Well it seems to me you have some explaining to do!" Trunks demanded part in jest, part in nerves, "Lets start with this. Hi. My name is Trunks, I believe I'm your son. See? The ears?"

Vegeta smiled and let out a nervous laugh as he dropped to his knee so he could be level with Trunks.

"Hi," Vegeta said extending his hand out to grasp Trunk's, "My name is Vegeta. It appears that I am indeed your father, and I do have some explaining to do."

Trunks smiled, a smile that said everything would be ok, even though it seemed impossible right then. A smile that wiped out the last ten years of loneliness and confusion. It was like they had known each other forever; their bond was so immediate and deep. Trunks ran into Vegeta's arms and held him tightly around the neck.

"It ok Dad, we'll get through this. I know it. I can feel it. It right, its finally all right. I get to know my real dad! It doesn't get much better then that," Trunks said with a few tears of his own leaking out. It had indeed been a long day. He pulled back and smiled at his new father, "But the questions can wait. Right now I want you to teach me some archery!"

Vegeta laughed, and it felt so freeing, it was beyond understanding. How could Trunks just accept all of this so easily and go on to playing? He was an amazing child, and Vegeta already felt proud of him. There was still much unrest in his head of what would come with Bulma, but he shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind. The only way he would make it through this is if he took it second by second, and right now he was going to show his son how to shoot one hell of an arrow

Trunks was surprisingly talented, and with a few tips and pointers he was getting very good. Vegeta saw that with practice he would be unbelievably excellent. He would never miss. Another trait from his father, Vegeta smirked. He had even devised a strange way to shoot, almost backwards, to which Vegeta had said, 'Unorthodox but ludicrously effective,' much to the child's delight.

It was near dusk and the bats began to come out. One flew too close to Vegeta's head and he reached out like lightening and caught it, and cupped it in his hands, tiny and struggling. He broke one of its wings and tossed it into the air, watching it flutter back to earth in a frantic spiral.

Trunks could just make out its high pitched thin twittering on the very limit of his hearing. Before he could think he ran forward.

"Stop," he cried out, "Stop!"

Vegeta ignored him. The bat struck the ground and ceased to move. He nudged it tentatively with one foot then picked it up and shook it. The bat did not stir. Trunks stood watching with hands clasped and tears in his eyes.

"Don't throw it up again, its stunned. You'll kill it..." Trunks' voice trailed away and died.

Vegeta laid the bat down long enough to look at Trunks. He eyed Trunks for a long moment with his eyes dark and enigmatic, then he glanced back at the bat.

"Why?" Trunks said not looking at him, "Why did you torment him?"

"Because I can."

"You should never hurt something just because you can! You should never hurt anything anyway! Would you catch them all?" Trunks shouted passionately.

"I am sorry," Vegeta said quickly before actually thinking of what he was saying. He felt wicked for offending the child so, and more so for hurting the helpless bat, something he never would have even though twice about before….."I will never do it again."

"You will never hurt anything again?" Trunks said wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Never."

"Good," Trunks said, cheerful again. Vegeta wished he could be that quick to get back on his feet.

"Die beast!!" a charging roar sounded. Trunks and Vegeta turned to see the origin of the shout.

Zetes, Shippo, and Madania had finally collected themselves enough to go valiantly in search of their captured friend.

"No, no you guys," Trunks called back to his friends with his hands up, "He isn't a beast at all. He's my……. friend."

"What?" they all said dumbly cocking their heads and trying to process the idea of there being no monster. It was a big step for a kid.

"So if you don't eat children, what do you eat?" Madania was the first to speak.

Vegeta simply shook his head and put his head in his hands.

"He eats our food, and speaking of that we better hurry if we are going to make it to dinner."

"I don't..." Vegeta started, his heart lurching, but his protests were overwhelmed as he was outnumbered by a gang of very hungry kids.

He was in a state of constant upheaval and conflict, as if his guts were in a blender, every step closer they took to Bulma.

AN: OH. Will vegeta go through with it and confront Bulma? And what will her reaction be seeing the man she had mourned for 10 years suddenly alive in front of her? Thanks again


	29. Chapter 28

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty Eight

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty Eight

A servant entered the Queen's chambers quietly with her head bowed in respect. Bulma was reading an old philosophical book she had found on the top shelf of the cupboard while Trunks was out playing.

"Sorry to disturb you madam but a letter has arrived from your husband, King Yamcha."

"Thank you," Bulma said absent mindedly taking the letter, it was always the bad news that traveled the fastest.

It seemed odd that a man like Yamcha should be king. He had no extraordinary qualities that made him worthy of kingship, but that was the way the dice had rolled.

Her father's death in an inconsequential battle by mischance about five years ago still stung in her heart. His death had left too many things undone, it was too soon, she wasn't ready to lose yet another. It seemed like there was always something he wanted to tell her, but never got a chance to. She remembered with bitterness all the "I'm sorry's" she'd received. Whenever anything goes awry people say that infuriating phrase.

Sorry? It sounded so simple, so nonchalant, so………nothing. Sorry to wake you, sorry I stepped on your foot, sorry I snapped at you, sorry your father is dead.

Bulma slowly read the letter. She made no movement. She turned neither red nor pale, nor dropped the letter, nor stared in front of her. The letter was indeed one of bad news. It told of the failure at the last hope for peace between the Fey and Eves and now it seemed the largest battle of them all was on the verge of breaking, a monumental battle that would surely mean absolute destruction for one side or the other.

Bulma felt a surge of anger and sorrow flow over her. Why had this dreadful war ever begun? Had the whole world simply lost its mind? This was all madness! Surely they could see the damage they would cause in this fruitless battle was absolutely unnecessary? What was to be gained? What was it all about? Life is too bitter already, without territories and wars and noble feuds.

It was a war without meaning, which helped no one. But alas, they were doomed to fight yet another battle regardless. War is like a fire. One may start it, but it will spread all over, senseless and uncontrollable so that the source is soon forgotten in the fray. It is never about any one thing in particular anyway.

Bulma was tired out. She was still a prisoner in this world, her son was unfulfilled, her father was dead, her husband was faltering, her country was on there verge of a vicious bloody war. Yet she could have breasted all these things in some way, if the central tenet of her heart had not been ravaged. She was a Valkyrie and her soul was intertwined into the hope for saving the world. It was her essence. But she didn't know how.

In her heart she believed that people were perfectible: that they were on a whole more decent then beastly: that good was worth trying for. She had been forged as a weapon for the world on the assumption that people were good. The service for which she had been destined had been against force, the mental illness of humanity.

All her efforts to achieve peace for her people and the world had been progressive steps in the endeavor for which she had been bred. Might- to have ended it- would have made the world happier. But the whole structure depended on the first premise: that people were decent.

Looking back on her life, it seemed to her that she had been struggling all the time to dam a flood, which, whenever she had checked it, had broken through again at a new place, setting her to do her work again.

It was the flood of war, and she could never again without her whole heart regain her power or will, for these people who were supposedly good had taken from her the staff upon which she leaned. Her heart would never be whole without him.

It seemed as though she should quit while she was ahead, or what she really meant by that was to quit while she was behind, but not by too much. In reality you're never ahead. If you try, try again you're most likely to sink deeper by finding new ways to lose, for there are always more ways to lose then win. There was only one strategy that seemed like it could bring victory: encourage others to try, try again then observe their failures.

Perhaps man was on a whole a villain, and their hearts were deceitful above all things and desperately wicked. And that would make the purpose of her life a vain one. Chivalry and justice had been a child's illusion, and it wore away at her spirit. The knifes in her back stung wickedly.

Behind this thought was a worse one, with which she dared not grapple. Perhaps man was neither good nor bad, only a machine in an insensate universe- his courage no more then a reflex to danger, like an automatic jump at a pin-prick.

Perhaps there were no virtues, unless jumping at a pin prick was a virtue, and humanity was only a mechanical donkey led on by the iron carrot of love, through the pointless treadmill of reproduction. Perhaps might was a law of nature, needed to keep its survivors fit. Her head ached but she could not sleep.

Why did people fight? Was it wicked leaders who led innocent populations to slaughter, or was it wicked populations who chose leaders after their own hearts? One person could hardly force millions against their will. If he had commanded the people to 'stand on their heads' they surly would not have followed, however cleaver or persuasive or deceitful or even terrible his inducements.

A leader must offer something which appealed to those he led. He might give impetus to a falling building but surly it had to have been toppling on it own account before it fell. If this was true then wars were not calamities into which amiable innocents were led by evil men, they were national movement, deeper, more subtle in origin. It certainly did not feel as though she or Adrastus, Volsung's son, had led their county to misery. If it was so easy to lead one's country in various directions, as if it were a pig on a string, then why had she failed to lead it into peace and justice? She had been trying.

If she nor Adrastus had set this misery in motion, who had? How did the fact of war begin in general? For any one war seemed to be rooted in its antecedents. It seemed to lead back to forever. People had gone on, age after age, avenging wrong with wrong, slaughter with slaughter. Nobody was the better for it, since both sides always suffered, yet everybody was inextricable.

It was as if everything would lead to sorrow as long as people refused to forget the past. The wrongs of everybody can only be righted by the blessing of forgetting them, that was essential. Everything was rooted in the past! The actions of any sort of generation might have incalculable consequences in another, like a pebbles ripples in a pond. It seemed the only hope was to not act at all, like a pebble not thrown, but that would be hateful.

What was right from wrong? Who decided? If I were to have my time again, she thought, I would have buried myself straight away for fear of doing which might lead to woe.

The past must be obliterated and a new start made. Lands have been robbed, men slain, nations humiliated. Couldn't they by now star afresh without remembrance, rather then live forward and backward at the same time? They couldn't build a future by avenging the past. They should just sit down as family and accept the peace of the gods.

Unfortunately people could not do this. They were like children crying out that they would build a house, but when it came to the building, they had not the practical ability. They did not know the way to choose the right materials. Or maybe they just never had a chance. Every time they started a structure, it just kept getting blown down by the next wind.

Perhaps the great cause of war was possession. Perhaps wars were fought because people said my kingdom, my wife, my possessions. Perhaps as long as people tried to possess things separately from each other, even honor and souls, there would be wars forever. Perhaps wars only happened between those who had and those who had not, but no one could really define this state of "having".

A knight in a silver suit would definitely call himself a "have not" if her saw a knight in a golden one. Nations and individuals were always crying out "mine mine mine" when they should be saying "ours." If this was true then people would have to share everything, even feelings and lives. They would have to throw themselves into the force of life, like a drop into the sea, for the fate of this man or that was less then a drop, although some were sparkling ones, in the great blue motion of the sunlit sea.

But something in her head wouldn't accept this godly view. Sweeping and drastic remedies could cut out anything- and life with that cut. Ideal advice, which nobody was built to follow, was no advice at all. Advising heaven to earth was useless.

Perhaps war was due to fear: to fear of reliability. Unless there was truth, there was always danger in everything outside the individual. This uncertainty could become a menace. Perhaps wars happened because nations had not confidence in honesty. They were frightened, and so they fought. Nations were like people- they had feelings of inferiority, or of superiority, or of revenge, or of fear. It was right to personify nations.

Another fantastic thing about war was that it was fought about nothing- literally nothing. Frontiers were imaginary lines. There was no boundary between the countries. People could keep their culture and local law so the imaginary line on the earth's surface only needed to be unimagined.

There was a general idea that it was wrong to fight in wars of any sort. But there is one fairly good reason for fighting- and that is, if the other man starts it. You see, wars are wickedness, perhaps the greatest wickedness of a wicked species. They are so wicked that they must not be allowed. When you can be perfectly certain that the other man started them, then is the time when you have sort of a duty to stop him. 'But both sides always say that the other started them.'

Of course they do, and it is a good thing that it should be so. At least it shows that both sides are still conscious, inside themselves, that the wicked thing about war is its beginning. There is no excuse for war, none whatsoever, and whatever wrong your nation might be doing to mine-short of war-my nation would be wrong if it started a war to redress it. A murderer is not allowed to plead that his victim was oppressing him so why should a nation be allowed to? Wrongs have to be addressed by reason, not force.

Suspicion and fear: possessiveness and greed: resentment and ancestral wrong: all these seemed to be a part of it. Yet she was not to the solution. She could not see a real solution. She was too tired and miserable to think constructively. She was only a woman who meant well, who had tried to raise her head up after being beaten down time and time again, but she had ended in failure. To do at all had proved too difficult. This battle was sure to be the end of everything.

Bulma proved to be not quite done by lifting her head from the desk. There had always been something invincible in her heart, a tincture of grandness in simplicity. She sat upright and reached for the pen. She would stop this war if it killed her. The hope for making it would lie in culture. If people could read and write and love, not just eat and sleep and fight, then there was still a chance that they might come to reason.

'My Dear Husband,

I have received your letter and it has upset me greatly. Please do all you can to hold off this monster until I arrive on the morrow. I know you would advise otherwise, but please, there has to be something I can do. We have to stop this. We have to try.

Take care, your Wife'

Bulma sat back and sighed. She wasn't sure if Yamcha would take note of her plee. He was polite, but it was the quiet ones who did the mischief. She must hurry. The silence in the room was one that you could cut with a knife and it felt like a blade at her throat.

Bulma looked absently at the clock, then fell forward in her chair when she realized the hour.

"Where on heaven and earth is that boy! He should have been home long ago!"

Bulma was quickly thrown into the panic that surely all mother's fall too, only hers was magnified to the nth degree for her son was all she really had left and his welfare was the most important thing in the world to her. She paced the grounds frantically calling and sadly returned inside when the guards said they would take it from there.

Sitting glumly in her chair and thinking of all the horrors that could have happened to her poor precious child by now and what a fool she had been, she was interrupter but a clumsy knocking at the door.

AN: kinda a more contemplative chapter, but important. well tell me what you think, thanks, and until next time


	30. Chapter 29

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty-Nine

Stolen Hearts Chapter Twenty-Nine

It was late as they neared the not so incredibly humble "cottage" that the royal family was residing in, safely tucked away from the world and out of the hearing distance of peace.

When Trunks knocked on the door, he was a bit shocked to find it flung open so quick and so harshly to reveal a relived looking but enraged mother.

"Trunks, you have no business being out this late what ever were you thinking!? I've been worried sick about you, just think of all the things that could happen to you all alone in a place you don't even know!" she cried in a fluster from her brain over piled with thought, and with, perhaps, a bit too much drama.

"Mom chill! I'm old enough to take care of myself, and besides I wasn't even alone."

"The nerve! I will say when you are old enough mister and- wait what? Who were you with?"

"Well I made friends with some of the local kids, and I met this really cool guy who is all strong and could kick anything's ass in this whole forest!"

"Watch you language, I will not raise a barbarian for a son. Now are you going to introduce me to this mystery person of yours of am I supposed to just use my imagination? Where is this superhero of yours?" Bulma replied with immense skepticism and a highly arching eyebrow.

Trunks and Vegeta had decided the best way to break the news to his mother was to do just that. Break it to her, and see where the pieces fell.

"Yeah, one sec, I have a feeling you will be very glad to see him… where is he? Hey come here, don't lurk over there, it will be ok, remember?" Trunks said with a small laugh.

"Trunks what are you talking about? Who's out there?" Bulma said, her anger fading and being replaced with curiosity as she peered out into the shadows.

Vegeta was frozen to his very core. There she was, before him after all these years, and just as breathtakingly beautiful as the day they had met, perhaps even more so. Someone had tied expert knots all through his stomach that were impossible to untangle, and his heart was striving vainly to leap out of his throat. He couldn't think. He couldn't speak. He could only feel. And the feelings were almost too much to bear.

He hadn't known, or remembered, actually how much he missed her until this moment. Out of sight, you can learn to keep it out of mind, but now it was no more. After all the years of refusing to acknowledge, it all came rushing forward like a tidal wave and it took all of his strength not to fall to his knees. Some strong warrior he was.

Her bright eyes were so blue, so azure in their faded depths that he could not see into them. It seemed there was no part which you could hope to catch hold of. And beside her, just as radiant, together making them even more fascinating, her son. Such beauty. Such light. His darkness had no place here.

She had not wanted or needed him then, she did not want or need him now….. right? But Trunks had said…… and Trunks knew him now….. there could be no turning back.

There were seeds of hate and confusion and pain in his love, yes, but love can exist with hatred, and this is what gives its greatest unbreakable fury.

It was then he realized that he was being pulled forward into the light by small polite hands.

Bulma recognized him in two heartbeats. The first beat was a rising one which faltered at the top in crazed hope. The second one caught up with the first, picked its momentum from the crest of the wave, and both came down together like a rearing horse that falls.

They saw her blanch, then stagger as though struck by a physical blow, such was the intensity of her shock. Imagine seeing something you held dearer to you then anything in the world, including yourself, after ten long years of thinking it was lost to you forever, that even a part of you was lost with it, but now suddenly returned. It was almost too much to comprehend.

At first there seemed to be only lines of confusion and disbelief, but under it you could perceive that there was a great joy, a fountain of mirth enough to send a kingdom laughing were it to gush forth.

An electric message went between their eyes before either dared speak a word. It was as if the tortured past had never been. She was serene and sane again, he was alive before her, and they were young creatures once more- the same creatures whose eyes had met with the almost forgotten click of magnets all those years ago.

"Is it really you?" Bulma managed in a strangled gasp of air, "Please Gods don't let this be a dream!"

Relief poured into and soothed both of their sorrowful souls. The whole world seemed to fade away in that moment, along with the past, all was dwarfed in comparison to the surging love that pulsed between the two, the need to end the pain that only the others touch, a breath away, could heal. Heal at last.

They had finally arrived at home, at peace, at happiness.

Bulma felt like she was dying from an ache she hadn't even known was so strong. Her attempt to speak turned into incoherent cries as she simply collapsed forward into his arms, warm and welcoming, and he held her closer then anyone else ever could. She cried for the hypocrisy, for the loss of innocence, for all the stolen years, and for the darkness of the world. But most of all, she wept for Vegeta, for his tired eyes and inerasable scars.

Yet there was a different edge to her cries as well. Tears are born of too much emotion, and this time it was joy not sorrow that sowed them. They were the rare and beautiful evidence of too much happiness to contain.

Trunks, smiled and he slowly retreated off to his room knowing all would be sorted out in the morning.

"How?? I thought you were dead!" Bulma finally yelled realizing that if he had indeed not been dead, then why the hell was he not with her? Why had he waited so long??

"No, I ...escaped," Vegeta replied with a strained tone into her soft hair, hoping it would be enough.

"Why didn't you come for me?" Bulma cried pulling back and looking at him with hurt eyes, "Why would you have me believe all these years that you were dead?!"

How could he explain? How could he explain something that he didn't really understand himself?

"I wanted to go to you Bulma, by all the stars in the sky I did, but...well firstly you have to understand what they did to me in that dungeon was unspeakable and doesn't leave one in the best state of mind…..I was near death…..and as I escaped and thought of telling you somehow… something stopped me. For the first time in my life I wasn't selfish. I knew we were chasing a falling star, and that we were deceiving ourselves, and if I were to lead you further away from your true destiny... that would have been blasphemous. I had to let you go, you were better off without me."

"How can you say that!" Bulma exploded, her state of high emotion caused her to fall to passion quite easily, "It may have been difficult for us to be together, and it might not have been the best or wisest thing, but I will NEVER be better off without you. Never!"

"Think about it Bulma. Just think about it for a second. It's something we never did. What would have been the repercussions to our actions? I can tell you right now that it wouldn't have been anything magical. We were too young and unprepared for that. You don't deserve to be hidden away in some dark insignificant corner of the world. You are a queen, a Valkyrie, you are so much more then just my love and I would be foolish and arrogant to try and keep you all too myself when you were meant for the world."

"I don't want to be the world's! A lot of good I have done anyway."

"You have, and you still have much more to come. And what about Trunks? What kind of life would he have had known? None too glamorous I can tell you that. Struggling every day to survive, becoming as harsh and bitter and jaded like his father. I know the world out there Bulma, and it is cold and unforgiving. It would have torn us all apart eventually. Can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't want something better for Trunks? Something more for your life?"

"Well…..," Bulma whispered through her tears after a long moment of silence, "For Trunks I guess you might have some point, but….. The past is the past, we can't do anything to change that…….Vegeta," she cried her voice breaking again, "The years have been so long and empty, I need you!"

Something like joy flashed Vegeta's eyes before they became sad once more.

"How much?"

"What?"

"How much do you need me Bulma? How long will you need me?"

"What is more then every grain of sand? Every drop in the sea? What is longer than forever? What is more eternal than death? I'd cut my hands and feet off if that would make you come back to me," Bulma strained through her tears, still shaking and tightly entangled in her lovers grasp.

"Then we will simply have to try this again," Vegeta said unable to subdue a brilliant smile as he pulled her lips to his in a violently passionate embrace.

They were no longer foolish adolescents any more, but seasoned lovers who knew what they were about. Even when the fervor of youth had died away, they were still just as much in love. They were cautious of their devotion and loved someone only if they would love them for life, and they didn't choose on passing standards of the flesh alone, nor abandoned it lightly when things began to fail.

Their love was deep, intertwined, and immaculate, for their being fit so perfectly together, like pieces to a singularly stunning puzzle that was finally complete.

His touch opened worlds. It raged, it rioted. All that Bulma had been holding inside, all the trapped emotion, came rushing forward in an overwhelming torrent of passion. She couldn't hold on. Both were still filled with wonder and disbelief that this was actually happening, almost too good to be true.

Her lids closed for a second as she replayed her life. She had such awful memories, but now they were all super-imposed with this picture of him. She would never let him go away, they would be together always. She would wander no more, for all the love she had she had for him.

The past was reduced to nothing. There was simply here and now and they would do what they must.

They kissed slowly and deeply, their bodies trembling slightly as they reacquainted themselves with one another. The sheer intimacy of this act, which was the closest and gentlest they had ever exchanged, took Bulma's breath away. She wanted a hundred things, none of which I could name, but she did know one thing. She wanted to be closer. She wanted more. She wanted everything.

So she stepped closer still and brought her other hand back up to Vegeta's face, letting her fingers glide around his eye, over his cheekbone, and down the line of his jaw. He couldn't stop himself from leaning into it and sighing with content long lusted for.

Vegeta moved to kiss her earlobe. Such a small piece of flesh, and hardly the most sensitive, yet in his mouth, beneath his tongue, and between his teeth, it became the center of the universe.

Warm breath rolled across the sensitive place behind Bulma's ear making her shiver with anticipation as his strong arm took hold of her waist. She was utterly captured, as simply as that.

He kissed the softer flesh under her jaw, languidly making his way down her throat as if determined to reacquaint himself intimately with every piece of her. She quivered under his touch, aching for it with everything she had. He could have done anything he wanted to. The feel of his mouth, the warmth of his body, his scent - all these combined to push Bulma into a sort of delirium dearly missed.

Solemnly, he reached up to brush her face with the back of his fingers again. So soft. Hands that had beaten men bloody whispered across Bulma's skin. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest, threatening to tear itself loose. Soft wet heat covered and invaded Bulma's mouth again. He sucked at her lower lip, tasting her fully.

She had been kissed before, certainly, but never with such passion, such manifest desire to bring her pleasure. Her hand clasped his waist as he pulled back, but he only wanted to kiss her again, and she was eager for it. Their tongues played and Bulma's body surged deliciously against his.

Her Vegeta... He was so adept and so relentless that he would have had her screaming his name even if she hadn't wanted him, even if she didn't welcome his touch with every part of her being.

Bulma hadn't even realized that they were now in her bedroom and clothing was very scarce on either of them. Vegeta's burly arms wrapped tighter around her with a desperate intensity and he held her tightly against his frame as if afraid to allow a millimeter of space between them. With few unsteady steps backwards they had fallen onto the bed in a rush of desire.

Bulma was beyond herself as she felt his heat between her legs pressing her with the most wonderful pressure into the soft mattress below; it had been so long since she'd had tactile contact of any sort and she pressed her body back into his wantonly, reveling in his hard warmth.

As Bulma's mouth was skillfully plundered, all she could think of was the supple body writhing in her arms. Loud groans of utter fulfillment tore through both of them as tongues swirled and sucked lightly, and the two became one.

Bulma was screaming his name, all her need, all her want, all her joy forced into that one perfect word. A heartbeat later, and Vegeta was there with her, roaring his release. Visions shattered in white starburst as heads tossed back with primal shrieks, bodies trembling violently in orgasmic ecstasy.

Vegeta was hers at last and she was his, her one, her only, and she...they were safe, they were whole. Cradling him after he collapsed against her, feeling their hearts beat together, she told him all of these things, with words and without, and for the first time in longer than either of them could really remember, they were at peace.

Two bodies entwined in the inky darkness, luxuriating in the delicious and boneless liquid euphoric aftermath. Complete contentment vocalized in the form of soft mummers. Simply enjoying the moment and the feeling of heated, sweat-slicked skin cooling in the frosty night air, full of more happiness then they thought they could ever know.

The future seemed distant and vague, but it would come all the same. All that mattered now were the simple true words exchanged.

"I love you."

AN: Together again! What will morning hold? Thanks for reading!


	31. Chapter 30

Stolen Hearts Chapter 30

Stolen Hearts Chapter 30

As the light unwelcomingly bored its way through Bulma's closed lids she rolled over and gave a groan of defiance. It had been stalking her for quite some time and the proud queen was growing tired of its bothersome presence. How dare the sun intrude upon her! True, she usually was awake long before the sun ever reached her but for some reason she longed more then anything to cling to the serenity and warmth of sleep that had finally embraced her fully. She had not slept this well in ages and she was definitely not going to relinquish it now.

That's when she felt a presence at her side.

Bulma sprung up like a lightening bolt followed by the thunder and with an alarmed cry just as loud causing the peaceful body next to her flying, still caught in the groggy confusion of sleep.

"Oh God, Vegeta!" Bulma gasped tumbling off the bed after he dislodged lover, "Oh dear, I forgot. I'm just not used to sleeping beside anyone," She explained as she inspected him thoughly for an injury of any sort, upset at how many scars she found. She must have been too involved with other parts of him last night to notice them.

Vegeta let her inspect him knowing full well that nothing was wrong, but enjoying the attention and care, not to mention the warmth and gentleness of her touch. He had forgotten how good it felt to be loved.

"Not even your King?" Vegeta questioned, quite happy that the scum called Yamcha was no where near HIS woman.

"No, we are not close like that. He learned not to try me early on. It was only a marriage of convenience and safety for Trunks, you know that right?" Bulma explained quickly suddenly worried that he thought she had abandoned thought of him and simply married another, "It killed me to do it, but it had to be done."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I do not doubt your intentions or your love," Vegeta said and felt his heart swell like he never thought it could.

"He is still King though, and I his wife," Bulma thought aloud with a furrowed brow as she was no confronted with the problem of what to do, "As much as I hate to admit it much has changed in the past ten years. He is not a bad man, only ill placed. But worry not, now that I have found you there is no doubt in this world that you are the only one I will be with. Yet the problem remains that once haunted us before."

"We will run this time?"

"Hush. Let us speak no more of this dreary-some topic on this fine morn," Bulma pleaded, pulling Vegeta close, "We should relish what we have now and worry not about the future. There will be time enough for that later. We might not even have to for the world might be destroyed in a few days time."

Vegeta looked at her questioningly and she filled him in on the events he had missed, and the upcoming battle to end all battles.

"It seems we don't have long to make our decision," Vegeta said gravely, but then his growling stomach broke the tension, "My love, you know it is my last desire to leave your side, but I fear if I am to lie here any longer I may never arise."

"Very well," Bulma said with a soft laugh, "I suppose you may go sate your hunger if you must."

"Oh you are a fine lady," Vegeta smirked as he leaned in and spoke against her lips, "In return I will make you the best breakfast that had ever passed your divine lips. Have you ever tasted the wild berries of early spring? It is an experience to say the least."

"I cannot say I have wild sir," Bulma returned smiling back into his mouth, "But I will leave it to you to educate me on this new...pleasure."

"Anything you wish," Vegeta finished coyly and closed the space between them to plunder Bulma's mouth with a kiss that made her heart stop. Oh God how she missed that.

"Hurry back. My body aches without you," Bulma moaned as Vegeta pulled away. She wanted to kiss him forever.

With one last lingering kiss Vegeta bounded off and disappeared out the door. It was funny, Bulma had lived ten years without him and now it felt like she would not last ten minutes. Their bond made on that magical night had reformed quickly.

Just as Bulma was feeling as though she were walking on clouds, her senses told her there was a darkness about. Far overhead from beyond the veil of blue sky which hid them, the stars were singing. A pure, cold, sad music. The faerie Queen's eyebrows furrowed for she knew what amiss, she just didn't want to think about it. not now when everything finally seemed right.

A husky laugh empty of all joy sounded behind her. Bulma's hair became a whirling blue vortex she spun around so quickly.

"Yamcha."

The laughing stopped. He looked dark. Grim. Humorless. There was something different about him. She had never seen him this way before. A fear grasped her heart.

"How long have you been here?" Bulma inquired trying to sound strong and demanding, but unable to keep the tremor out of her voice. Damn, this was ridiculous! She was never afraid of Yamcha, what was this? Something very sour was in the air. She was not the Faerie Queen for nothing; her senses were more highly attuned then almost any other living creature.

"Long enough," Yamcha hissed in a low unnatural voice laced with despise, "And you shall call my King, or is that not good enough for you anymore you whore."

"You shall not speak to me so!"

"Why?! Is that not what you are? You are MY wife! Or have the past ten years slipped away from your stupid little fantasy? Ten years Bulma. Ten years and the dirt is back. Look at your face, its filthy. You shame your people. You shame me! I didn't send you out here so you could sneak around behind my back with that filth! I thought we disposed of him years ago!"

"No!" Bulma cried, furious that his worlds had such an effect on her. When did Yamcha become so intimidatingly powerful? She felt her eyes sting. Why? Why? She had never belonged to him. Her heart was always Vegeta's whether there was some silly paper saying she was married to Yamcha or not. In all truth she had been cheating on Vegeta with Yamcha all these years not the other way around!

"Ha! You know it's true even as you deny it. Look at you, you little wretched slut. And you dare to call yourself Queen."

"It is my blood not yours that is royal! Remember that! You are just a little power hungry leech! You should thank me for putting up with you all these years!"

"Perhaps, but there is always at least one mistake in every great family. Maybe two in yours. How pure is your sons blood Bulma?!" Yamcha's voice rose to a furious height and Bulma could no nothing but wince at it. Oh God no, he knew about Trunks.

"Maybe I would allow you to tarnish yourself with that disgusting Elf, but I'll be damned to seven hells before I let the horrid abomination that never should have existed EVER come near the throne!! And to think I called him son, it makes me want to vomit."

'Oh God Oh God Oh god' Was all Bulma's panicked mind could think, 'He's in Trunk's doorway.'

"I will kill him."

All of Bulma's tremors stopped. She was suddenly as calm as a lake on a sunny day. Fury rose in her eyes. He had said something unforgivable and he would pay.

She felt the power rising in her veins, power she had felt only once before. It was back. She was a Valkyrie once again and her sights were zeroed in on the bastard monster that dared threaten her child's life.

Her wrath was quick but deadly. In a blinding flash of light Yamcha lay in pieces on the floor. She had torn him limb from limb with her bare hands. The fact that she had just murdered the King matted less to her then smashing a bug. Dark red stains were on her dress, her hands, her face, and yet she herself looked unshaken and strongly sure of herself.

"Holy shit what happened?!" Vegeta's voice sounded, wrought with distress as he saw Bulma a morbid yet beautiful swirl of dazzling white and gory red standing over what looked like it used to be a human.

His voice snapped Bulma back to reality. Her light dimmed but she still had a soft glow to her. Tears welled in her eyes but did not fall. She lifted her chin proudly.

"I am all this kingdom needs. He threatened our son."

"That was Yamcha?" Vegeta said appalled and awed at the glowing woman before him, "Wow as happy as I am to have him gone, Bulma, what are we going to do?"

"There is no running now."

AN: Things are heating up! Till next time, thanks for reading


	32. Chapter 31

Stolen Hearts Chapter 32

Stolen Hearts Chapter 31

"We must face our destiny Vegeta."

"What is our destiny Bulma?"

"To stop this bloody war!" Bulma could somehow now see it all clearly, "There will be no future for this world if we cannot learn to live together peacefully as we once did. It must stop, it has become madness! And no one else will do it but us. There is no one left to try, no one left to hope! They are all blinded by their murderous hate and we must make them see. We will make them see that we are not so very different. If we can love each other and bear a child from that love, how could there ever be hate? We have already made the one who will unite them Vegeta, half of both, now all we have to do is make them SEE. Trunks is the key to everything."

"But how? The madness runs deep. It consumes them all……"

"I don't know exactly, but there is little time. I sense dismay in the air and it gives me the impression that everything is on its last legs and will soon disappear from the face of the earth. This war is little more then an account of men slaughtering each other. It has lost all point, if there ever was one to begin with. Battle follows battle and they mean nothing. Countless heroes are always slain; rivers of blood drench the earth, hooves of fiery steeds spurting gory dew trample on the dead. Horrors cease to horrify that is how bad it has gotten. I am a Valkyrie am I not? I can make them stop. I have to try."

Bulma though of all she had seen and its unstoppable nature. The death, the blood, the madness. It did indeed run deep. She shuddered and for a moment hope seemed to wither. And even at that moment the sun for a second faltered and was obscured. Almost beyond hearing she caught, high and far in the heavens, a cry. Faint but heart quailing, cruel, and cold. She blanched and the very warmth of her blood seemed stolen away. There was something worse then Faerie or Elf loose in the world, but what? How can you fight a foe you cannot see?

Then she felt him by her side, and she did not despair. Her warmth returned. They may stand, even if it was only one leg, they would still stand. Yet the unexplainable darkness seemed overwhelming, and there would be no dawn unless they could stop it. Her chest swelled. She was ready.

"Let us fly. The largest of battles commences soon. It will be the end of everything if we do not intervene."

Bulma shone with divine light. The Valkyrie would indeed be the savior to this world as the ledged told. When the senses are shaken and the soul is driven off in madness, she would stand. When the souls of the lost fight in the troubled rages, she would stand. When the whirlwind of fury comes down upon the world and the nation drive together, she would stand. When sin claps its broad wings over the battle and sails rejoicing in a flood of death, when souls are torn to everlasting fire and the fiends of hell exult upon the slain, she would stand!

Vegeta looked at his lover with glistening eyes. She was radiant, and even though he wanted her as far away from the disgusting mess that had become the world, he knew she was right. There was something more then herself in her eyes. Something ancient and revered. He would follow her to the ends of the earth if she willed it so.

With a new wave of passion, heightened by the possible ephemeral nature of the world, he took the beautiful glowing woman in front of him into his arms and kissed her with everything he had. He hoped it would be enough to tell her how he felt, for he had no words to explain it. From the look in her eyes it seemed she got it perfectly.

"I love you. Whatever happens, I will love you forever."

Faster then the wind they flew into the gathering darkness, Bulma holding both Vegeta and Trunks, her power enveloping them both. The pressure and tension in the air became more and more suffocating as the approached that dismal battlefield.

Vegeta awed at the pure size of the armies. They stretched for miles; certainly every living creature was part of this monstrous clash. There was only a hundred feet or so between the two and it seemed the two appointed leaders were having a few choice words before their nations demolished each other. Not very diplomatic at all.

It was a clamor unbearable, like thousands of wild animals were tearing themselves to pieces, but when Bulma landed with a flash of blinding light an eerie hush came over the clearing. They were bedazzled, at least for the moment.

She took a deep breath and squeezed Trunks and Vegeta's hands.

"If this doesn't work, Bulma you have to take him and flee. Don't worry about me, you take Trunks and you get as far away from this place as you can," Vegeta whispered urgently to Bulma as she began to move toward the small group of people in front of them.

Bulma only answered with a solemn gaze back at him and then her face turned to stone.

"Listen to me, all of you!" Bulma said with a voice like thunder and a tone to drown the throat of war. Everyone could hear.

"Enough! This ends here today and not with violence! There has been enough of that to last many centuries. Look at yourselves! Look at what we have become! Would you really rather have everything and everyone you know destroyed then live in peace? Are you all fools?! I stand here today, asking, begging, for a new beginning. I have already begun it! My son stands here as proof, as a hope of a new tomorrow when we will all live in harmony! He is the joining of our races, half Elf and half Fey! It is no disgrace but the future!"

A rustle flowed through the crowed like fire. Was it really true? A half breed? Was that even possible? Was it the future? Slowly but surely you could sense a calm, or at least confusion, beginning. Bulma turned to Vegeta and smiled. Maybe this would work. The word of a Valkyrie is not put aside easily.

"No! There cannot be peace as long as you traitorous Faeries exist in the world! This child is no more then a mistake of nature! He should not be! This peace is false! Why should we listen to some Fey Queen?" Vegeta's brother Adrastus, who was now king, cried.

"Would you listen to your own brother?" Vegeta called in a harsh voice and stepped forward, "I Stand at her side and am not poisoned. It is folly to continue fighting brother! End this madness!"

Another murmur of confusion flashed through the crowd. Adrastus had a brother? More and more seeds of doubt were being planted in the masses.

"You are NOT my brother!" Adrastus hissed, "You are no more then a traitorous conniving son of a light elf!"

And then Adrastus made the one emission that Vegeta feared the most.

"You killed our own father Volsung, you piece of filth, I'll kill you right here!"

Vegeta winced at the words and he had no response. It was horrible and true. Bulma's heart dropped as the sides began their clamor again, soon it was a bad as before. Perhaps worse. What kind of spell were these people under? Why were they so consumed with this destruction?

Bulma only had one hope left. It was a vague idea in the back of her head, more like a voice almost, telling her what she had to do. What she had the power to do. She had to clear their eyes of this haze of madness. With a mass of creatures this large and this incensed it would take all would take all of her strength. She had to try though, it was the last chance.

Bulma closed her eyes concentrated all of her power in her core. It was suddenly a tangible thing. She could feel its edges with her mind and sense its power. It glowed and burned inside her.

With a deep breath and then a scream Bulma forced the light out, every last tendril, until the sky was filled. Nothing could be seen but the dazzling brightness. It was if the whole world had become nothing more then these particles of beautiful light and warmth. It was no normal light either, it was the light of the Valkyrie and it held the vision of peace and love. It reached far and wide. The weapons and hate dropped with it.

There would be no war.

It was over.

What ever dark force was that had taken root here was gone.

Vegeta gasped. She had done it! That radiant woman had done it. He smiled toward his love but his smile quickly faded as he saw her. The glow that had once radiated from her every pore, now seemed dim and fading. She began to sway and fall, but Vegeta had her in his arms before she hit the groud.

"Bulma are you alright? How do you feel?" Vegeta asked unable to hide his concern. Trunks was wide eyed by their side as well, his distress showing clearly on his face as well.

"I'll be fine, just a little tired. Did it work?" She said in a voice as soft and beautiful as a summer breeze, but also alarmingly weak.

"Yes, yes it is amazing. I have no idea what you did but it worked! They are free of any thought of war or hate. "

"We were actually lucky they battle was so large. That was the only way I could show them all, to end this………I don't know though, it seems there is foul play about still. I can feel it. Darkness lurks, it is not gone yet."

As if to answer Bulma's musing Adratus moved angrily towards them. It was as if all the darkness had somehow been drawn up into just him, so much so that even his features were distorted with it.

"Vegeta!" Adrastus called with a voice strangled with hate. "I will not lie down and let this new world commence! I will not give in! This is your fault, you have always wronged us you worthless fiend! You traitor! I will kill you!"

Vegeta leapt to his feet alarmed. He could barely recognize Adrastus. His features were so darkened and estranged with despise and wretchedness. He was hunched and wild eyed. There seemed to be darkness around him only where there should be light. It was strange, something was wrong.

"I will not fight you brother!"

"Then you will die!!"

"Vegeta," Bulma cried, "That is it, that is the evil! It has possessed your brother! Just as it has possessed all of us!"

"What?" Vegeta said, confused by this sudden emission.

"Yes. She is a smart one isn't she," It hissed suddenly with a voice that chilled your soul and made the earth tremble. It was almost like loud and quite having an argument, or a heated debate. It was evil.

"But she would know, I have intruded upon her life often enough. Yes little Bulma look at me, it is I who has caused you all this pain, it is I who has taken your life apart piece by piece, for I knew only you could make my ruin or my triumph. If I took away your happiness I knew you would be powerless to defeat me Valkyrie. So I took your innocence, so I took your siblings, and I took your love. I even had you kill your own king and husband," said the creature that wore Adrastus like a costume and it let out another mirthless laugh.

Vegeta and Bulma looked at each other, with wondering fearful eyes as the pieces of the puzzle slowly fell together in their minds.

"I know you must be confused my Valkyrie, for although I have watched you your whole life, you have never seen me, so allow me to introduce myself. I am Gorgorath and I used to be a God," it paused watching them carefully, like a predatory and his prey.

"But the other Gods got a little put off when I tried to take over the other realm Emeldir," Gorgorath continued, "I almost did it too until they somehow trapped me in this disgusting mortal realm. I was only a wraith here with no body of my own or ability to interact. At least at first. It took me centuries to acquire the ability to possess people and rot their minds and have them do my bidding, and when I found that I could I decided to take this world apart piece by piece. I knew it killed them to see their precious mortal world being ruined and ravaged, and I relished in their agony," Gorgorath sneered and Bulma saw how much he did relish it……

The fiend! Playing with all their lives as if it were no more then a chest game! How could the Gods allow this, this evil to walk among them?? If they really did have love for the mortal world, why hadn't they done something? But her question was answered by the monster.

"Then they sent you," Gorgorath seethed, now focused his evil eyes solely on Bulma, and they were filled with hate.

"They thought they were so clever, but I spent my energy ruining you in a hope that you would never realize your full potential and your pathetic idea of peace would be gone forever. Alas there have always been certain people I couldn't posses however, and your damnable lover was one of them….. I knew he would be a problem, so I tried to ruin him too. His father was all too easy to use and distort. I thought I had you both, I did have you both, but the powers of fate seem to be against me. Nothing seems to keep you two apart! Fie on you both, I will have my revenge! This is not the end for Gorgorath! I will not be thwarted by some filthy Valkyrie and her damned Elf lover!"

Bulma looked warily at this strange creature trying to absorb all that he said. Was it true? It was all too much to grasp right then. That everything in her life had been horribly orchestrated by this evil being….. It was madness.

But then she thought deeper. Volsung, her Mother, the Nymph Folora, Yamcha, the mysterious deaths of her siblings, and now Adrastus. They were all unexplainably evil, possessed you might say, doing deeds that Gorgorath wished for…… It was abhorred! This evil God thrown down from the heavens intent on making her life and Vegeta's life a living hell all because the God's had given her this, this Valkyrie thing inside her!? It wasn't fair! It wasn't right! Why did she have to suffer all those years? Why must Vegeta suffer?? So she could be a savior? She never asked to be a savior! She suddenly didn't feel like herself, she felt her whole life an unfair orchestrated lie put on by unseen forces of a magnitude she could hardly comprehend. All she knew was that she felt cheated. She felt used. She felt tired………. 'Please……. Let it be over……. I have no will to do the bidding of Gods any longer….. let this world fall to fire, all I want is him in my arms.'

Gorgorath was pleased with the distress he had caused. It seemed he was not so upset as someone who was defeated should be…… there were more evil plans spinning in his sickly head.

And an idea he had…… he would finally kill her love for good, something he should have managed long ago!

Gorgorath in Adrastus' body , snarled and began his attack mercilessly and without warning. Vegeta was unprepared, for he too had been trying to make sense of his life and all of its pain, and before he knew it he felt the deathly pressure pressing him to the cold hard ground.

'Not like this.'

Vegeta pressed back with all his strength and somehow managed to dislodge himself from the monsters grasp just before his mighty sword swung down to cleave him in two.

'How was a mere man supposed to fight a God,' Vegeta wondered hopelessly as he drew his sword with a meanacing cry, pushing Bulma and Trunks behind him.

"Stay back," he shouted to them.

"Vegeta NO!" He heard Bulma cry as he lunged himself forward toward Gorgorath. Hate now swelled through him. He would make that creature pay for all he had done to them! For all he had done to the world!

"Ah, ha ha, looks like someone has a little fight left in him, well come then boy! And we shall see who falls!" Gorgorath spat.

Bulma watched on desperately as the two exchanged earth shattering blows. She felt the tremors shoot through the ground and her heart swelled in anguish. There was no way Vegeta's mortal body could hold up against such an impact for much longer!

Vegeta was holding his ground but the air around him was becoming more and more suffocating. It must have been some evil trick of the black God in front of him, and he could feel his body breaking.

With a vicious slash from the left Gorgorath sent Vegeta slamming down into the earth with so much force that a small crater was formed.

The God let out a sickening laugh and raised his foot to press it into Vegetas chest.

"Looks like I will win after all," Gorgorath snickered evilly as he pressed down harder and harder onto Vegeta's heart until he felt the blood slowing in his veins, "No you will die at last my sneaky friend."

Gorgorath raised his sword above his head and Vegeta closed his eyes. He made a silent prayer to whatever good was in the world that Bulma and Trunks would be safe.

A female's cry cut through the air with a pain and desperation you could hardly imagine a voice could hold. Vegeta felt a warm pressure on top of him and then the sickening sound of flesh being cut that was followed by the emptiest silence ever heard.

The wind blew coldly through the air moving the hair on Vegeta's forehead. He was alive. Then...who had taken the blow?

His eyes flew open wildly and he beheld the worst fear in his heart. It was anguish too great for expression.

Bulma.

Everything seemed to stop. For a second that contained an eternity, Vegeta stared at Bulma's face, at her half open mouth, at her open crystal eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of a deserted house, and his mind could not accept what it was seeing. All he felt was a numb disbelief as he sat with his love dead in his arms.

He looked upon her and his mind was not able to believe she was dead……… This must be a mistake, some horrible mistake or ugly dream. She was still warm in his arms….. He softly pressed his lips to hers as if she was still living. He ran his fingers along her soft cheek and through her pristine white hair, clotted with blood, so much blood... her eyes that had been so bright...

Dead. Her eyes were dead……….. he bowed and lowered his head and his tears ran down like raindrops fell. He cried slowly, deeply, primitively. He buried his face in her hair and throbbed with sorrow.

Who can be wise, amazed, temperate, furious, loyal, and neutral in a moment? No man. The haste of his violent love outran reason. There lay Bulma, her silver skin laced with her golden blood. Her gashed stab looked like a break in nature, such a wasteful entrance. Such ruin.

And there her murderer soaked in the color of his trade, his sword covered in her blood, stood. Who could refrain, that had a heart to love, and in that heart courage to make that love avenged?

Vegeta slew him with one blow, god or no he fell beneath the terror of Vegeta's blade, powered to an unstoppable height by his pain of lost love. Vegeta didn't even notice that Gorgorath didn't defend himself, for he was blind with hate and pain.

The body of Adrastus indeed fell lifeless, but the Gorgorath creature arose in a foul black cloud from the slain. A laugh that sucked all joy from the hearts of all that could hear emanated from the intangible form of evil.

"I suppose I should say thank you," It hissed, "Silly mortals always think of this world alone, but now you have released me from it in the only way I could. By a blade of love. And now I will return to my kingdom and I shall have your precious Valkyrie with me. I will not fail this time in my conquest."

And with that disheartening message the darkness disappeared from this realm, leaving Vegeta strangled screaming furiously at the unforgiving sky.

AN. What is there possibly for Vegeta to do now? Bulma is dead and Gorgorath plans to use her in his evil plan! Can he be stopped? Ok, does Gorgorath make sense? There is going to be some more explanation in the next chapter but I want to know if I lost you guys on that. It's a big leap. Thanks for reading, please review


	33. Chapter 32

AN: ok let me apologize for the wait but I do have a good excuse

Stolen Hearts

Chapter 32

What was this new evil? Vegeta's head ached to think of it all as he gazed with bleary vision at the dark sky. The cold and bitter wind tore through him.

He didn't want to think. He didn't want to feel. He didn't want to move. If he moved, if she was no longer in his arms, then he would have to accept it was all true. He couldn't handle that.

This was too much. This was too big for him. Had he really helped one of the most evil things this world had ever seen? Had he handed him this world and the next?

This had to be stopped, but how? Just thinking of the magnitude would send even the wisest man into a flurry, let alone a remorseful being whose love of all loves still lay lifeless beside him.

He bowed his head feeling crushed but the weight of the world. It was too much to expect for him to go on.

"Bulma...I am so sorry...I failed you," he whispered desperately to her corpse. There was nothing he could do now. They were in the other world and he could not find her there. Even in death Bulma would be haunted. That thought was the worst and it filled him deeply with bitterness and fury. Was there no escape for them?

Vegeta felt a madness coming upon him but lacked any strength to fight it. Maybe... Maybe if his life were to end he could follow her, yes...yes that was the only way...

Just as Vegeta was about to throw himself upon his own blade he felt a small hand on his shoulder.

"Father..." Came a slow unsteady voice laced with sorrow and fear.

"Trunks," Vegeta breathed, he had forgotten about him in the midist of this whole mess, oh Gods how could he? He had to be stronger for Trunks…. Somehow. Vegeta pulled his son into his arms and gathered his tears, "I am sorry son... I am sorry."

The two held each other like they were the last things they had in the world. Which was true, but they did have that one thing, so all was not lost. One defiant flag of hope lingered, as beaten as it was.

"Dad...what are we going to do? Is mom...is she..." Trunks heart would not allow him to speak the words of his mother's death. Maybe he thought if he just didn't speak it out loud the death keepers would not know of her passing and her soul could return. She had been the only thing he knew, and the fact that she was gone was incomprehensible to him in his fragile state.

His father was not so different. Vegeta was lost again in the dark and he could think of no possible way in the far corners of the world to get the light back. He was only a mortal! How could he expect to take on the Gods and the heavens? He wouldn't even know where to start. It was all hopeless it was over. The world was doomed. All he could do now was try to comfort his son, who he was a stranger to. Madness was still lurking at the edge of his mind. Bulma was always the only thing keeping him here.

"Vegeta, I feared this would happen, but this is not the end, do not despair. Look! The wars are over, the peoples are at peace...for now."

Vegeta looked up from his son, and indeed the peoples on both sides were speaking calmly and working together to heal all that had been ruined. It would take time, but peace was here. A group was standing around Vegeta, Trunks, and Bulma looking on with sad eyes, questioning what to do, and conveying immeasurable thanks. Vegeta's eyes met a pair he knew, and they belonged to the one who had spoken.

"Galatea! Why are you here? I am glad you are though, it is good to see a friendly face, and it's been so long since I have seen yours. Did you know of this?"

"Of Gorgorath? Yes, I felt his heinous presence multiple times but I did not know how to stop him. He is a God after all. There were doubts whispered about the Valkyrie being able to conquer, but when I saw Bulma I knew she would save us. Unfortunately though it seems Gorgorath has found another way to take over the kingdom of Emeldir. Vegeta if he makes Bulma his own then he will have all the power he needs to take over everything, and I don't think I have to say that we cannot let this happen. With her he will be the absolute ruler of an inferno like mass of primordial filth that will be the world. The universe will be unhinged, light will turn to dark, happiness to sorrow, and all will be shrouded in his evil."

"But what possibly can I do?" Vegeta cried still at the edge of his sanity. Galatea must have finally lost her mind to think that he could do anything to stop this now. What was he supposed to do, grow a pair of wings and fly to the heavens? It was hopeless, they were lost.

"Love Vegeta is stronger then any evil. There is not much more I can tell you but when the time comes you will know what to do. Follow that which lies inside you. You know more then you let yourself believe. The world does not withhold, it is generous enough. The truths of the world continually wait, they are not so conceited either. They are calm, subtle, and untransmittable by words. We did not weave the web or life; we are merely a strand in it. Whatever we do to the web we do to ourselves."

"He is in another realm Galatea, how am I suppose to follow there as a mortal? Is it not impossible?"

"No, there is a way. For you. If you are brave and pure of heart. Follow the setting sun to the highest mountain in the range that lies at the edge of sight to the east. There you will find your road. You are the only hope Vegeta. No other can save everything as we know it."

Vegeta's head bowed as he felt the weight of the world again, but seconds later in a powerful swift movement he stood and grasped his sword.

"I will not leave her to torment. Whatever it takes of me...no matter how far I have to journey, I will be with her. I will never yield until we come face to face."

Galatea smiled and raised her hand to touch Vegeta's cheek. "I have complete faith in you Vegeta."

"It is appreciated, but it is I who must have the faith if this is to work. Will you watch over Trunks for me? He has been through much today and needs a kind face."

"It would be my honor to guard the future king. I have seen great things from him Vegeta, if the world is to continue that is."

"I know," Vegeta smiled thinking of the great deeds his son would do that he never could. Trunks was watching him intensely with tear shining eyes.

"Dad, are you leaving me too?" He said in a shaking voice of one who had experienced far too much in one day and could take no more.

Vegeta knelt and embraced him reassuringly. "For a little while Trunks, I am going to go get your mother back. But through all the worlds combined I will come back to you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep Dad."

"I will keep it." Vegeta said fiercely looking straight into Trunks' eyes, "You will not lose like I have." With that he kissed his forehead turned and strode into the darkness.

"Give them hell then Dad!" Trunks yelled after his form, his tears finally freeing themselves in another spell down his round cheeks,"I believe in you."

The forest was almost impenetrable, an enormous barrier of eternal trees with the dead ones fallen against the live and held to them by ivy. The living had to struggle up in competition with each other toward the sunlight which gave them life.

Vegeta had never traveled this far into the endless woods, and he was no meager traveler. More then once the thought crossed his troubled mind that his quest would never leave these woods and he would be a prisoner of them forever. But every time he remembered his words to Trunks, he remembered Bulma's fate and he plunged ahead like a machine, never sleeping hardly eating, just doggedly plunging on to the far ends of the world.

The days passed in a haze and the woods only seemed to get thicker. This place had an air of ancientness like no other. It was a place time did not reach and everything was as it was at the beginning of time. The world seemed to breathe around him and watch him with curious eyes, but were gracious enough to allow the passage of this new strange creature. Sometimes, especially at night, Vegeta sensed the presence of enormous creatures moving gracefully through the maze.

Some uncalculated amount of time later (it was hard to keep track of the passing of days in the deep forest when the sun didn't reach the boggy floor) Vegeta came out of the masses of trees to an out cropping the overlooked what seemed to him the whole world. He had never felt so exhausted in his life, his eyes were baggy, his ribs were protruding, cuts riddled every inch of his skin, he was filthy from head to toe, yet the burst of fresh air he felt was like a new wave of life over him. His eyes stared in awe at the scene he beheld before him.

From there you could gaze across the whole forest, your eyes would wander out over the blue tree tops that made a sea of leafy timber that rolled away and away until it was finally lost in the remote mountains which nobody had ever visited. The cloud capped towers that seemed to rise to the gorgeous places of heaven.

Vegeta for a moment almost felt what it was like to be a God looking down at the world and all its corners. He sighed and descended from his lookout. The world was definitely worth saving and there was no time to waste.

AN: So Vegeta's quest has begun. Will he be successful or will he have to break his promise to Trunks? And how will he ever find Bulma in the other world? Find out soon. We are reaching the end here people...


	34. Chapter 33

Stolen Hearts

Stolen Hearts

Chapter 33

"Damnit."

Vegeta cursed as another unforgiving merciless branch snapped across his cheek leaving a vicious trail of red in its wake. How long had he been out here? Where was here? Where was he even trying to go?

Desperation clung to his sides as his only companion on this wearisome hopeless mission. It seems ill-fate would have him lost in the dense of the forest. With every step Vegeta felt his heart breaking. There was no way he could do this. It was folly for him to ever pretend. He would die a captive in these ancient woods. He had failed her. He had failed them both.

With a strangled gasp he fell exhausted and broken to the mossy floor. How good it felt to give up. To struggle no longer. It would have been so easy to lie there and wait for death. His parched mouth and his heavy eyes were both partly opened. Small huffs of air escaped his lips, peeled and curling. In this state of exhaustion it would not take him long to slip away.

But then there! What was that?

A weary elbow propped up a sagging body.

Gold?

Yes gold. Was he hallucinating?

There, along the ground in front of him there seemed as clear as day to have appeared a trail of golden light. It danced and shimmered across the leaves and entranced him. He felt his body rise despite the fearful grip gravity had establish upon him, and he moved after the light almost as if a hand was guiding him, urging him on, telling him not to despair.

The branches cleared. The trunks faded. He was on an incline now. Up up up and forever he spiraled, the golden light swirled around him leading him onward as impossible as it became. As endless as the forest was the mountain's height was even more so. It was heaven's mountain indeed and it would take any normal man next to a lifetime to climb it.

But the golden light carried Vegeta to heights un-dreamed about they were so perilous. Fear more then once struck Vegeta's heart, but more then that he was filled with trust. With faith.

First the smell reached him. A heavenly smell, warm and golden as if all the most delicious fruits and flowers of the world were complied into it.

His eyes cleared. He was not moving any longer. He lay on his back in a garden laced with the softest grass he had ever felt. Smoother then silk. It was gold. All was alight with the brilliant glittering shade. This whole place felt soft and warm and peaceful. Like a mother's arms.

He heard the trickling flow of a crystal stream and was reminded of his thirst and exhaustion. Crawling on his hands and knees he reached the stream and drank greedily from its sparkling water.

As soon as the marvelous cool of the liquid fell down his throat he felt the strength it carried with it. Almost immediately it felt as if life flowed through his veins to every extremity. He gasped at the glory of it. He was renewed. But more then renewed; he felt power in his veins as well. Strange amazing power he had never felt before. Surely this was no ordinary water. Where on earth was this place? He had a feeling he had reached his destination.

"I've been expecting you," a voice smoother then any sound that his tortured ears had ever beheld rang through the air and a strange feeling came over Vegeta. He had heard this voice before and his chest swelled with peace and happiness. He was home. He saw flashes of things long forgotten, feeling long lost, arms long forsaken.

Tears filled his eyes as he turned to behold one of the most beautiful sights he could ever contrive in his mortal mind. She smiled at him and his tears spilled over as he was consumed by the amber light of age that poured from everywhere around the heavenly being that stood if front of him. Her arms reached out towards him in welcome, and he went eagerly to them.

As the arms embraced him and held him close, so close, so warm, and his tears fell on this being's golden skin, he managed to whisper the question that burned in his heart.

"I know you, how do I know you? Your face brings a peace to me I have never known."

"You do know me Vegeta. Once long ago when I was someone else. I was taken from you before you were old enough to know. Vegeta, so long have I waited to hold you in my arms, to say your name. I have watched your life and I have suffered with you, for a mother never wants to see her only son in anguish."

"Son..." Vegeta's voice was shaking along with his body, "Mother?"

"Yes Vegeta, my son, my beautiful baby boy. When your father was possessed by Gorgorath and took my life the gods took pity on me, as they did many of the light elves, and they gave us wings and made us their messengers, angels if you will. I am called Elentari now, the queen of the stars, and it is I who will help you with your most important of quests."

"Mother...I don't even know what to think, all these years I have been alone, I never... I wanted... I've missed you so much, I don't even know you but I miss you so. Life is so cruel."

"Yes, but it is also so beautiful my child. It was wrong that I was taken from you, it was wrong you had to experience so much horror in such a short amount of life, but all toil is redeemed in the end. And now the world's fate balances in your hands. You were destined for this. You have so much power inside you, so much promise, even more so now. Yes, you feel it inside you. You have drunk from the stream of life and its power fills you and proves your intention. If there had been a bit of doubt or ugliness in your heart the river effect would have been the opposite and you would have been deathly poisoned."

"I feel insignificantly small. This is all so much for me right now, it is hard on a simple mortal mind."

"Man is born to sorrow as sparks fly upward. The world is indeed on its last legs; the terrors you must save us from are near unspeakable. The sun turns black, the earth sinks into the sea, the hot stars fall from the sky, and fire leaps about the heavens itself. It is the end. I'm sorry for burdening you with this, it must seem impossible, but love Vegeta, the love in your heart will not be conquered easily.

You see, Gorgorath does not have enough power on his own to overthrow Emeldir, he plans on seducing Bulma into a dark trance so he will be able to make her his bride and join their spirits. If he succeeds in doing this he will have all her powers as a Valkyrie and he will become an unstoppable machine. You must find her before the joining and draw her from the black trance she is consumed with.

What you have given her she will retain Vegeta, for love is immortal, and eternal, and will not wither in the endless depths of death or this sleep he has drawn over her spirit. She will know you, she will feel you, and she will be liberated, and when she is, we will all be safe once again."

"How am I supposed to find her though?" Vegeta questioned trying to soak up all of this overwhelming information, "I am not dead, so how shall I find spirits in the other realm as a breathing mortal?"

"I have three gifts for you to assist you in your quest. The first is a ship of the winds, which will bring you to an island where it is possible to enter the realm of the dead. You will need my second gift though to enter. It is a pendent of Emeldir and it will allow you to walk among the dead as one of them. The third gift is a mighty sword made of the Oldstones. They cannot bear a closeness to iron, the Oldstones, for they were made long before the new metals. There are many dark things down there and you will need a weapon to contest the power of gods. The sword's name is Iphis."

"Your gifts are great but this quest is even greater," Vegeta said, his eyes distant and serious, "I will not fail. I shall try not to. I know I must do this in spite of all impossibility. I will have faith mother, I will be strong. For you. For my love. For everything."

"Go now, time is fleeting, my love and life goes with you. The ship Navasall will carry you to the island and there you must look inside yourself for the gateway. Farewell my son! All the hopes of the stars lie upon you!"

Vegeta reached out toward his mothers beautiful form as she faded into obscurity, the whole land around him faded too as if it were nothing more then a beautiful dream that stole him away from the true horrors of reality.

He felt the wind rush around him in a maddened frenzy and all went grey.

Silence surrounded him until he felt the ground beneath his feet and he smelled something he had not in a long long time.

The sea.

Vegeta opened his eyes to pristine sails flapping in the early morning breeze and out beyond the vessel stretched endless miles of bejeweled smooth shining water that rushed and seethed with tempestuous life, but at the same moment it had the most peaceful ancient rhythm that but his sore heart at ease.

He boarded the Navasall and the breath of life steamed away in the north wind sweetly, and Vegeta realized how beautiful life was, which one misstep, in just seconds, could rip away from him.

And so he stepped aboard Navasall and the wind shifted so the vessel moved lightly off the shore and into the void of blue. Vegeta knew that if he set up a sort of rhythm it would help him in spite of his obstacles.

Before long all had turned into and endless blue stretch that made one feel as if they were nowhere going nowhere, just one tiny part of something too massive to comprehend. The heavens were the only things that changed, but even that was at the same lazy rotation every day. The occasional sea creature would surface and give him an inquisitive look before descending back to their mysterious realm beneath the surface.

In the midst of the night some weeks later the Navasall's keel struck land with a gentle thud. Vegeta's heart jumped. This was it. He jumped up to see, his heart in his throat.

But this loathsome moor was not a place you would be glad to find yourself in, in fact it struck all joy from his heart so he was not able to bring to mind one happy thing. The land did not say "welcome, so glad to see you," it merle threatened, "I dare you to stay."

Vegeta dared.

His footsteps sounded hollow on the mossy stones of the isle. He climbed the embankment and even the moss did not live. There was not one thing left alive, and he came to the dead lake.

Vegeta had never seen water so black and lifeless before. Mist steamed like black clouds from the surface, barely a ripple disturbed its glassy surface. No one knew its bottom, for no wisdom reached such depths.

The place Vegeta found himself in was absolutely flat. In the world we seldom see such flatness for trees and houses and such give a serrated edge to the landscape. Even the grass sticks up in a myriad of blades, but here in the belly of the night, the illimitable, flat wet terrain was as featureless as a dark junket.

In the enormous flatness, there lived one element, wind. For it was an element, it was a dimension, a power of darkness now. In the living world the wind comes from somewhere and goes somewhere, and as it goes it passes through somewhere. Through trees or streets or windows.

This wind came from nowhere. It was going through the flatness of nowhere, to no place. Horizontal, soundless except for a peculiar boom, tangible, infinite. The astounding dimensional weight of it streamed across the water. You could have ruled it with a straight edge. The titanic gray line of it was unwavering and solid. And the lake remained still.

Vegeta, facing into this wind, felt that he was uncreated. Except for the wet solidity under his feet, he was living in nothing- a solid nothing like chaos. His were the feelings of a point in geometry, but with no magnitude. The wind was magnitude. It was power, current, force, direction, in a pointless world. A stream steady in limbo. Bounds had to be set in this unhallowed purgatory.

Far away to the east there was an unbroken wall of sound. It surged a little, seeming to expand and contract, but it was solid. It was menacing, being desirous of victims, for it was a huge remorseless lake. He saw his bleak reflection upon the lake. Into it Vegeta fell, he looked inside himself and dove.

The moment he left the earth the wind vanished. Its restless brutality had dropped away as if cut by a knife. He was in it, a pinion or horizontal air, and he was in the other realm, in the land of the dead.

AN: So Vegeta had found the passage way into the realm of Emeldir. Will he find Bulma and Gorgorath? What obstacles will be in his way? Is it too late already?... till next time, let me know how you like it. Yay for reviewe


	35. Chapter 34

Stolen Hearts

Stolen Hearts

Chapter 34

Vegeta was in a place where light and life fled altogether. All was silent. Some might say silent as death, for that is what he was surrounded with. As a living soul, the pressure of death would have crushed him had he not been bearing the pendent of Elentari.

Vegeta still knew he was not meant to be here. Every breath he took seemed empty and cold. His hands looked pale and lifeless, but surprisingly vibrant compared to everything else around him, in fact, his very life aura seemed to exude light that set him drastically apart from everything in this dismal place of darkness.

"So much for blending in," Vegeta grumbled to himself as he realized just how easy it would be to find him if one did not desire his presence here, as he was most sure he was not welcome.

He began to walk, in no particular direction, for there seemed to be no direction here, just darkness. It just seemed to him that he had to keep moving. His legs felt heavy and dragged with a strange listlessness.

There were gothic styled ancient walls and strange faces, of men, angels, or maybe devils, were carved upon them, black, worm eaten, and shinny. Gleaming testaments to their old life in their coffin like solidity.

This was not heaven. This was not hell. It was merely the land of the dead, somewhere lost in between the two, a sort of purgatory, a transition before one was condemned or blessed. All souls passed through this land. Some lingered for longer then others, but there was one thing that was certain. If one wanted to raise an army, this would be the place, and that was exactly Gorgoroth's plan. He had only one last step in the process of starting a war with the Gods, and that was to convert his dark queen and drain her of her powers.

The time was near. The land was in unusual and rare turmoil. The dead usually went quietly to their fate, but now the evil souls we being lured by Gorgorath's forked tongue.

Vegeta found himself on a road wrapped with shadows, frightful forms lingered on either side, Pale disease, avenging care, and hunger that persuades to crime, a great company of terrors. Death dealing war was there, and madness and discord with her snaky blood stained hair, and many other curses to mortals. It was colder then a shadow here, and Vegeta knew no matter how many garments he put on he would never dispel this frost. It was not a chill of the air, but one of the soul.

And then Vegeta began to see the dead. They weren't as frightful as Vegeta would have assumed them to be after seeing the terrors. They looked like their living form, but with the lack of color, and purpose as they floated along with blank eyes, their feet dragging soundlessly along behind them.

Vegeta wondered why none of them took notice of him, especially the terrors, which seemed to follow their victims with watchful eyes. Were they not the keepers who would dispel a living creature from this word where he did not belong? They showed him nothing at all, and he was taken aback that life of all things in this dreadful place would not be most obvious.

Then an idea came upon him: they could not see him, or sense him at all. The pendent he was given made a shield of sorts around him so he could walk alive in this place where there was nothing of the sort. It made sense that the dead could not see the living, or he would not be able to be here with breath in his body.

Vegeta gasped as he recognized one of the faces that walked by. It was his father Volsung, but his face was like he had never seen it before. It was free, it was kind, and Vegeta felt like he wanted to know this man. Just as he was about to reach out his hand to the ghostly figure passing him by, the air above Vegeta's head was thrown into a whirlwind by the beating of great wings

Vegeta looked up and to his horror he saw eyes looking back at him, narrowed with hate. This thing was different. This thing saw him, and it was not pleased with his presence.

It was a Harpy. A giant terrible half-hawk half-woman who guarded this land with her fierce talons and horrendous voice. She was the oldest and most terrible of her sisters, and she would not tolerate this living creature to stay in his present state in this land. To be in the land of the dead you had to be dead. She just had to finish the process.

Harpy set her sights on Vegeta, seeing through his barrier easily, and dove upon him with a shriek that deafened men, felled trees, and split stone.

Vegeta's whole body was in such a shock from the overwhelming bombardment of sound that it was only by pure reflex alone that he escaped the Harpy's death dive. Her talons still caught him on the shoulder though, and the cuts were angry and threw him to the ground.

As Vegeta lay bleeding and senseless all he could comprehend was the hollow, terrible ring that hung in his ear and haunted all his thoughts so he could think of nothing else. It was worse then anything he had ever experienced.

But there was something else, there, in the back of his mind. A voice. He couldn't hear what it was saying, he was straining with all his might but the ringing was to overpowering. It seemed like such a little thing, he didn't even know who the voice was, but for some reason he became sad to the point of tears. As if something was there that was supporting him all along, without him even knowing, but now that he couldn't here it he was shattered. All he wanted to do was hear it, his whole body shook with the need, his teeth ground together, sweat ran down his face, every muscle was tense and straining, if he could just regain that voice he knew somehow it would be ok and this pain would leave him, but he couldn't...maybe just a little more...more...he had to...

With a snap like a fire it was there.

A memory.

A face.

A voice.

"Vegeta I love you."

Vegeta gasped as if he was coming back to life. It was Bulma, and Vegeta could hear again, and he heard the sharp clacks of claws upon stone.

The Harpy decided to relish in the kill and take her time prolonging this creature's pain. It pleased her. But then she saw him relax and his eyes flew open. How could it be? No one had ever escaped her cry before! It was impossible!

In a wild fury the Harpy charged this insulting being in front of her with wild death in her eyes.

With a movement too quick to be natural, it moved and then a cold blade pierced her thick feathered skin. It took her a few moments for her to comprehend what had happened and when she did she screamed her angry and the entire world could hear her fearsomeness.

Hold on. He just had to hold on. The Harpy was held back by a crosspiece on his great sword with 30 inches of Oldstone in her. Her mood was foul indeed. If there had not been a crosspiece she would have run right up and devoured him anyway, even impaled on his blade. Her only object in life was to heave and weave until she could crush Vegeta into her talons. Vegeta's one object was to not let go of Iphis, clasped tight under his arm. If he could do this he knew there would be that length between them no matter how much she ran him round.

Despite the Harpy's fury, the blade of Iphis burned inside her even more furiously and she was weakening by the second, this was no normal blade. This was the sword Iphis, crafted out of the Oldstones and blessed by the Gods, and when she realized this she knew of her defeat.

The great old Harpy let out one last tumultuous cry before her body crumbled to the ground in an ashen flame.

Vegeta kneeled gasping for a long period of time, before he could convince his body to move again and his heart not to tremble. His wound, although it still pained him, seemed to be healing quickly. The water he had drunk atop the mountain was wonderous indeed.

Vegeta continued doggedly into the depths wondering what other horrid things awaited him here in the desolate place of the accursed dead.

But everything seemed to draw back from him after his defeat of the Harpy. Nothing had ever, ever, in all the timeless time of this place, came even close to harming the fearsome Harpies, and this strange creature had killed the oldest and the strongest of them. He was not to be bothered for the rest of his journey by the few creatures that could indeed see him.

Before too long Vegeta realized that the path he had chosen out of mere chance (or was it the intuition of his heart) was spiraling deeper into the abyss-like cavern. Deeper. Deeper was good. Somehow Vegeta knew they would be waiting for him at the bottom, in the darkest coldest spot. The dead heart of purgatory. The gateway. To Heaven, or to Hell.

Time again avoided him and all Vegeta knew was the rhythm of his steps in the silence. His thoughts began to drift away in the darkness and he simply moved out of repetition. His mind wandered to better times, far away from this dismal land, somewhere safe in the arms of the one he loved.

Then something caught his eye. Strange in this place where all blended together, and even stranger it seemed to be a light. A soft golden light. Vegeta's eyes could look at nothing else. The light drew him to it, faster and faster he moved untill he was sprinting toward it, all of a sudden horrified that it would go out and he would be left alone in the dark again.

When he was about to reach the mysterious light there was a snap like lightening blinding him and he knew no more.

AN- How do you like it? only one or two more chapters left! Please review


	36. Chapter 35

Stolen Hearts

Stolen Hearts

Chapter 35

Vegeta squinted as his eyes fluttered open when he slipped back into consciousness.

Where was he?

What had happened?

By some form of grace or foul trickery he had been strangely transported to a place that was the polar opposite of the horrid black world he was in a moment before. This was a place of shining beauty where everything seemed to glow around the edges and radiant sparkles fell from the sky. All was light, all was airy, all was perfectly calm and full of sweetness.

But there was an aching in the back of Vegeta's head as he continued to be baffled by this place he was now in. Could he of possibly died and this was his heaven? Had he failed?

As beautiful as this place was, worry rotted in his stomach. Bulma, he could not leave her to torment, he couldn't of failed, not like this, oh Bulma where was she!?

And suddenly as if an answer to his prayer she was there.

In a gown of shining white she approached, not a blemish on her glowing skin, her soft hair wrapped elegantly about her face, a peaceful smile gracing her plump lips. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Oh god how he wanted to see her again like this, alive and gorgeous in front of him. He cared not what magic brought her here.

He could not speak, for he could hardly breathe as she kneeled beside him letting down the shining waterfall of her hair so that it framed his face. Vegeta lay happily with his head in her lap, and she began humming a soft sweet tune. Vegeta twisted his fingers through her silken fine thread and he thought of nothing else.

But still the ache remained in the back of his head and at last he listened to it.

'This is not real.'

'But I want it to be real.'

'That's why it is, but this is all a lie. False perception. Open your eyes.'

'I can't.'

'Open your eyes!'

'I don't want to.'

'Open your eyes!!'

'I'm afraid!'

'OPEN YOUR EYES!!'

With power he did not know the origin of, his eyes flew open although they already were and there was no shining world of light anymore. Reality rushed back to him. A scream escaped his strangled throat.

Roaring and unbearable heat surrounded him. Some filthy slimy tentacled creature had him wrapped in its deathly grasp. Can you imagine a stretch of land bubbling like water in a pot? For that is really the best description of the horrid condition he found himself in.

He twisted, he turned, he arched, and he strained, but nothing would free him from the tentacles powerful hold. It seemed Vegeta was still doomed to die even though he had miraculously escaped the creature's mind trap that sated its victims as it slowly digested them from the inside out.

But then the memory of Bulma filled his mind. He flowing hair, he sparkling eyes, her life; and Vegeta was filled with a passion that made you obey it, no matter how many worlds or ages lay between. His hand felt the cool touch of the handle of his mighty sword and with one great heave the blade sliced through his slime covered imprisonment and liberated him in a veil of green spray.

Vegeta stood gasping as he tried vainly to fill his lungs with fresh air. Oh how he hated this place! It was beginning to seem as though he was doomed to be tormented here for an eternity! How could he even presume to think he was going the right direction in the first place? This place seemed as endless as time itself. It was hopeless. His skin burned from the slime.

Still gasping, but now with despair, Vegeta began to lose the energy to get up and continue on. What was the point? Some other loathsome beast was likely waiting just around the corner ready to devour him, and even if he did by some miracle find Bulma what could he do to stop the burning God which held her captive?

It was awhile before he was able to perceive through his desperation the strange new sound rang in the air. It was the clank of iron singing its fiery song. Someone in the distance was building an army.

A steely calm came upon Vegeta. There was only one creature that would be doing such a thing in this place of the lost

"Gorgorath," Vegeta hissed and his heart was strong with hate as he followed his feet towards the distant sounds.

Before too long Vegeta came upon an outcropping overlooking an immense cavern that opened out into the darkness. Although it was hard to see anything outright, Vegeta could tell by the noises and the movement of the shadows that there was a massive number of beings preparing for what seemed to be the apocalypse. And right in the center off all this lunacy stood a flaming creature full of malice.

Vegeta knew he had reached his destination.

Without wasting one more second Vegeta flung himself down the cliff. It all seemed so clear now, so close. If he could just find her………..

Vegeta moved almost as silently as the dead who floated by in ever growing numbers. Vegeta was truly glad he was invisible to them now, for these dead wore much more menacing appearances then the people he had seen before. It would have been immposibe to reach the center of the mass where Gorgoroth stood proudly, but as it was he flew along with ease.

As Vegeta neared the center of the great black cathedral he crept ever quieter for he knew not what Gorgorath could see. Bulma had to be near him though, if she was truly the key to his power he would surely not let her go from his side.

And then there she was.

Vegeta's heart jumped with hope, but then fell again as he looked into her blank black eyes. She looked strange; her flesh looked like bone, as if it had been placed in a solution that had leeched all the life away. She was shrouded in black; even her hair had turned gray. Oh god, was he too late?

Then Vegeta's eyes wandered to the grimly creature next to her, standing high with its upper lip writhed back in a snarl. Black, flaming, and bloody. Its eyes gleamed with a gruesome light. It was Gorgoroth and he was terrible in his wicked grandeur. He was the shepherd of evil, the guardian of crime, with a heart as dark as the rain that the heavens weep. The hardest and sharpest iron could not scratch his skin, that sin-stained demon.

But luckily Vegeta did not have a sword made of iron. With a defiant ring Vegeta pulled Iphis from its sheath, sharpened and gleaming, as if ready for blood. It would seem to any onlooker that it was as pointless to fight Gorgorath, as it would be to fight lightening or an earthquake, but Vegeta had not come all this way to be quelled by a force of nature.

His heart was firm, his hands were calm. He meant to stand, not run from the fearful shooting flames, until fate decided which of them would win. His heart had been one of the few touched with true love and there is noting more powerful and mad then that, enough to challenge the impossible.

And so Vegeta fought, with fate and odds against him, but his heart was full of one thing, Bulma, and his undying love for her.

"Free her of your evil Gorgorath or face the oldestone blade of Ihpis!!" Vegeta said with a voice of great finality.

As sickening laugh answered him that echoed emptily in the vastness that surrounded them.

"Oh what a senseless mortal you are! To even assume to challenge me is folly, not to mention insulting! I am surprised you have made it this far, you little incessant insect, those persistent Gods will stop at nothing. No matter, they shouldn't have been so foolish as to put their hopes in such a pathetic attempt as you. Ha ha ha. I have already beaten you once insect! It seems you leave me no choice but to do it again!"

At that Vegeta wasted no time in beginning his attack with as much surprise as he could muster. He was a ball or fury, somehow making himself appear larger, almost godlike, and Gorgorath, though he would never admit, felt a brief stab of fear in his emotionless heart.

Gorgorath's large blackened blade collided with Vegeta's with a blow that rang through history as one of the fiercest contest of strength to be seen. Vegeta did his best to match Gorgorath blow for blow, but try as he might he was a mortal, and mortals do not contest with gods. At least in a physical battle, which in his blind fury was all Vegeta concentrated on.

The way to beat Gorgorath lay not in a blade, but in the heart, or more specifically, in Bulma's.

It was not long before Vegeta's strength was faltering greatly. He began to realize he was fighting a losing battle and he became desperate, so much so he could not think straight, and when his concentration wandered he was overcome. First Gorgorath's mighty sword slashed through his calf sending him falling to the icy, hard, un-welcoming stone floor.

With a grunt that turned into a harsh choke, Vegeta rolled himself over and realized the severity of his wound. He could not stand. This was it. He had failed.

Vegeta's glossy eyes rose to a familiar blank face.

"Bulma, I'm sorry," he whispered but gained no recognition from her black depths.

Vegeta felt his heart breaking all over again as he realized there was nothing left of Bulma in that shell of a body. She did not even focus on his face as he spoke to her, she just continued to stare blankly ahead.

"Oh god, please don't tell me I've actually lost you, Bulma remember! Remember me! I know you are there, lost inside the prison that monster trapped you in, Bulma it's me, listen to me, wake up!"

"It is no use you pathetic fool! She is mine, and as soon as you are gone I will suck the power and life out of her until she is nothing more then a soulless wraith, and with what I take from her I will reign over all! Maybe when you are dead I will make you part of my army, does that sound nice?" he laughed wickedly again, "Oh the irony!"

Vegeta ignored him, for he was beginning to remember his mother's words.

""_You must find her before the joining and draw her from the black trance she is consumed with. __What you have given her she will retain Vegeta, for love is immortal, and eternal, and will not wither in the endless depths of death or this sleep his has drawn over her spirit. She will know you, she will feel you, and she will be liberated, and when she is, we will all be safe once again.""_

And then he remembered something else he had heard in the mists of a dream.

"Open your eyes Bulma," Vegeta said his voice suddenly firm and resolved.

"Open your eyes."

"You really are incorrigible aren't you?" Gorgorath hissed.

"Open your eyes!" Vegeta cried again with increased intensity.

"Pest!"

"OPEN YOUR EYES!"

Bulma's expression twitched, she now looked sad and wistful, even strained, like she was trying to comply. Her eyes began to become cloudy.

"What are you doing? Stop now!" Gorgorath barked, uncertainty slipping in that only fueled Vegeta.

Somehow Vegeta managed to lurch his body to his feet and grasped Bulma by her shoulders.

Gorgorath began charging toward him for the kill, and time slowed down.

'Come on Bulma this is IT,' Vegeta thought desperately as he pressed his lips to hers letting his love flow through them.

'open your eyes………..'

A brilliant light shone suddenly as brilliantly as heavens candle. Vegeta was consumed by it and every drop of blood in his body tingled and seared, not in pain but in pleasure.

Vegeta heard a distant anguished roar like no other and glanced behind him to see a vision of horror; Gorgorath twisted in pain, bleeding and burning to nothing. The light pierced through him like it was acid and his skin pealed away from the muscle and soon the muscle fell away from the his bones and the bones turned into nothing more then dust.

To a deeper hell he would go, swept screaming and helpless to the waiting hands of still worse fiends. His strength was destroyed, his power was gone, he would plague the world no longer.

Vegeta turned back at the touch of warmth on his shoulder and looked to something so beautiful his eyes stung with tears. Bulma's face, smiling, ALIVE, shrouded in the brilliant glow, reaching out for him.

When he was in her arms Vegeta felt a rush of air, and although he could see nothing other then the light he realized they were shooting upwards. The air came up warmer and sweeter every moment, so sweet and so missed it almost made you laugh out to the world in joy.

Vegeta felt ground beneath his feet and slowly the brilliant light dimmed. Vegeta's eyes adjusted to the pale glow of morning and he looked around in disbelief. He was back in the mortal realm on a quiet forest floor. The homely earth noises filled his ears again. The chatter of the river on its stony bed, the creaking of the trees in the light wind, and the refreshing smell or the earth, grass, and flowers.

But more then all of this combined was the beauty of the woman in his arms; the woman he was convinced was lost to him forever. His eyes sparkled almost as brightly as frost crystals in white winter sunlight. His blood raced with happiness as he pulled her as close as he could and gently brushed his lips on her forehead.

"My god Vegeta, pull yourself together," Bulma said pulling back with a smile, "You are acting as if I had died or something."

Vegeta pulled her back to him passionately for a kiss he had no intention of ever ending. A crack of vermilion boldly broke through the black sky. The glory spread loudly; announcing the end of a dark era of war and the beginning of a new one of peace.

The world was moved to sing at such intense beauty and freedom. They were all at once in music and laughter, some joyful, some triumphant, some in sentiment and glee. The world was so dazzling and moving and twinkling as to make one blink ones eyes.

The two lovers finally pulled away from their endless kiss to behold one another, unaware and uncaring of the world around them, more grateful and happy then any words could say to finally be safe in each others arms. To finally be done fighting.

They had taken on the heavens and rearranged the sky to create a kingdom of their own, a kingdom where they could finally live in peace together.

Now they were home.

THE END

AN: Liked it? There will be an epilogue following. Please review!


	37. Epilouge

Stolen Hearts:

Stolen Hearts:

Epilogue

Bulma and Vegeta had much to do upon their return to civilization. Four months had passed in an awkward peace in their absence, but following the years of tension had left many wounded and homeless and unsure of where they stood.

The Reconstruction was a strained period for there had been so much death and destruction in the fierce battles that led up to Gorgoroth's unveiling. Although his shadow of hate had left the minds of both Elves and Faeries, there was still much bitterness as each side buried loved ones.

You can't put decades of war behind you in a single day, but the newly accepted leaders were strong and they led their people to a lasting peace.

Their people.

At last Bulma and Vegeta did not have to hide in the shadows ashamed of their love, although after their journey together neither would ever dream of doing such a thing. Many asked what had happened in the depth of the mystery that surrounded Vegeta's quest and the miraculous resurrection of the Valkyrie Queen, but the pair shied away from ever answering. That was a place neither wanted to ever revisit.

That miracle however seemed just what the tortured people needed. All hearts were silenced and calmed in their presence. No one complained when Vegeta and Bulma where inaugurated as the new King and Queen of the joint Elven and Fey empires. Who would deny the magic the pair had? Even death could not claim them.

Ever since they returned they seemed to have an other-worldliness to them that awed whoever was blessed with their counsel. If you looked closely you could almost see a light exuding from them as they looked in each other's eyes. They were no longer meant for the mortal realm.

They stayed long enough to rebuild their joined empire and secure the bond between them with peace, but as soon as the new King came of age, the pair finally took their leave of the world.

Bulma and Vegeta road side by side into the setting sun, never to be seen again. No one questioned their leave. They gave all they could give, the peace and unity betrothed unto the land. They went to the Heavens where souls like theirs, who had seen what they had seen and felt what they had felt, could rest in eternal peace.

Trunks lead in their stead and his kingship was one of Fairy tales. Such a noble and heroic king was never found again. The first born of both races. The child born out of pure love. No King was honored and loved as King Trunks, and the land experienced many years of peace and prosperity under him and his offspring, until you could no longer tell the difference between Fearie and Elf.


End file.
